Reconciliation
by Androgene
Summary: The terrible deeds Saber did finally surfaced, threatening to tear his sanity and friendship apart. Sequel to Remembrance. Revised and reformatted.
1. Reconciliation Chapter 1 to 4

Name: Androgene (formerly known as Cyberoid13)

Website: 

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: Reconciliation 

Summary: 

The terrible deeds Saber did finally surfaced, threatening to tear friendships and his sanity apart. Redemption seems so far away, especially when he's no longer in control of himself. And how would his friends win a fight when their enemy is their best friend?

Date of completion: 10 November 2001

Category: Drama, angst, violence, blood, rude language

Rating: NC-17

Author's notes: 

The time is now '2:50am' on a Saturday morning. After more than a year, part one of the third instalment is done. This instalment wasn't easy to write because of the several loose ends from the previous instalments. Only by completely tweaking all the stories together was it possible for 'Reconciliation' to take shape. 

This instalment is a lot darker and edgier than 'Reunion' and 'Remembrance'. Part of it was influenced by the very nature of the story; partly it is also because I was going through a rather dark mood myself. I like to think that this fiction is rather philosophical as well – the light and dark sides in everyone and the balance we all strive to maintain. When the balance goes out of whack, we have psychological mayhem. In this fic, Saber is an extreme portrayal of this imbalance.

I am very pleased with this story, and I hope you will like it too. But as of right now, I am going to crash.

Disclaimer: All 'Saber Rider and Star Sheriffs' characters belonged to World Event Production. I make no money from them and I do not own them. 

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**~ Reconciliation ~**

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**One - Arrival at Planet Yuma******

Planet Yuma: the centre of the New Frontier. 

The heart of the political body made up of thousands of worlds and billions of humans. Being the centre of the known universe, Planet Yuma was perhaps the most urbanised and swiftly changing world of the New Frontier.

Saber Rider knew that fact intimately. But no matter how much he had braced himself for his first look of the planet he left five years ago, it still had been an overwhelming shock to find himself a stranger on a world he considered his second home. Even during the short drive from the Yuma Air Base to the Cavalry Commands headquarters, he had not recognised a single landmark. Everything he remembered of old was gone, replaced by something new and completely different. 

He stared out at the unfamiliar city skyline from the seventy-third floor of Cavalry Commands HQ, silently absorbing the changes. 

_It will take time,_ he told himself. _Just think of it as your first time on Yuma._

"Come on Elise," whined Colt. Saber turned to see the cowboy engaging in one of his favourite past times – flirting with Eagle's secretary. "I've just come back from a gruelling three-month tour of duty and the first person I visit is you. Doesn't that say something about me?"

Elise rolled her eyes. "Spare me, Colt. You're here because Admiral Eagle summoned you guys to meet him the first thing you land. I'm simply a happy convenience for you to practise your flirting on."

Colt dramatically clasped his hands over his heart. "Ouch! That hurts, Elise." He batted wounded puppy-eyes at the pretty secretary. "You're not a happy convenience, you know that."

The sounds of Elise's laughter filling the waiting room distracted Saber from his rather gloomy contemplation. Beside him, Fireball's shoulders shook with repressed amusement.

"Colt, leave Elise alone." April said in mock irritation. "She's got a lot of work to do."

"Aw, April." Colt protested.

"It's not easy being my dad's secretary. So leave her in peace, playboy."

"Playboy?!" Colt sputtered. 

April airily waved aside the indignant cowboy's denials, winking conspiratorially at the giggling secretary.

For all the light-hearted bantering, Saber couldn't repress the brief pang of guilt that flashed through him. Colt was never always a playboy.

Admiral Eagle finally stepped out from his office. At once, the Star Sheriffs snapped to attention in the presence of one of Cavalry Command's most distinguished officers.

"Star Sheriffs reporting, sir!" Fireball said crisply as they all saluted.

"At ease, Star Sheriffs." Admiral Eagle, head of the Star Sheriffs division, said. 

At mid-fifties, Eagle had definitely grown much older than Saber once remembered him. There were a lot more grey strands in his brown hair and beard, and more careworn lines etching the distinguished face. But the shrewdness and intelligence in those kind brown eyes had not faded in the slightest.  

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. The phone conference took much longer than I thought." 

April couldn't resist the temptation any longer. Disregarding protocols, she abandoned her dignified posture in favour of a fierce hug and an unladylike shriek of delight. 

"Daddy!" 

Eagle laughed as he accepted his daughter's exuberant embrace. "Welcome back, April."

"Oh, it's so good to be back. I've missed you."

"Same here, April. Same here." 

Eagle held his daughter at arms' length and examined her closely. Older, yes and more matured, his only child had grown up to be a beautiful and capable young woman. He was so proud of her and at the same time, so relieved that she was home safe. Though he recognised the fact that April could take care of herself and her team, the father in him worried constantly over his daughter's safety.

"Did you have a good journey?"

"Well, you can put it that way." April hedged playfully.

Eagle raised an eyebrow in mock concern. "Did Fireball bully you?"

"Admiral!" Fireball protested. 

April giggled.

Eagle laughed again. "At ease, Fireball. I know how much of a handful she can be." He laughed again as April mock-punched him in the arm for that remark. "My office, Star Sheriffs. I believe we have a lot to discuss." 

In the privacy of his office, Eagle focused his attention on the one man he was most eager to meet since he received the news. 

"Welcome back, Saber. I'm glad to have you home."

"Me too, sir."

"How are you?"

Saber smiled faintly. "There're issues I'm still trying deal with. But I'm getting there."

Eagle studied the younger man for a long moment.   

Despite the warning Fireball had given him in advance, Eagle was still startled when he first laid eyes on the man standing at attention in the reception hall. His first impression was just how physically unchanged Saber seemed to be. The young man hadn't seemed to age a day in the five years he went missing. He was the oldest of the team, yet now he can be mistaken for being Fireball's junior. 

The moment Saber eased his stance, Eagle realised how wrong he was.

Saber had changed. It was there in his peculiarly alert behaviour, the almost inhuman fluidity of his movement, and the slightly predatory overtone to his body language. Cold violence seemed to simmer just beneath the surface, giving Eagle a sense of unease. His eyes spoke the clearest. Saber wasn't an innocent; no Star Sheriff can be. But his eyes, in the past, were never so haunted and so...lost.

It pained Eagle to find one of his finest in such a wounded state. 

"If you ever need anything," Eagle said, "please don't hesitate to ask."

"Aye sir." Saber hesitated, and then ventured, "Sir, about my parents?"

"Your father is on his way to Yuma. He should be here in the next day or so."

"My mother?"

"Unable to travel." Eagle's gaze softened with sympathy. "She has been ill for some time, Saber."

Saber's expression darkened at the worrisome news. "Do they know?" he asked softly.

"I've told them in very broad terms that you have been badly traumatised and hurt." Eagle looked reproachfully at Fireball. "It's a little hard to elaborate when all I have are vague reports."

"Sorry sir," Fireball apologised. "But I didn't feel comfortable giving you the details over long-distance communication." He scratched his head. "In hindsight, I'm beginning to see why you gave us the order of secrecy."

Eagle stared at the young captain. "What order of secrecy?" he asked carefully.

"The one you gave us to keep all news of Saber's return under wrap..." Fireball's voice trailed off as he saw the look on Eagle's face. "You...didn't give the order, sir?"

"I only ordered you to return ASAP, that's all."

The Star Sheriffs exchanged worried glances. 

"Daddy, the secrecy order was given in your communication to us. We thought it came from you."

"I didn't issue such order." Eagle was troubled. He reached for his intercom. "Elise."

"Yes, sir?"

"It had just been brought to my notice that a false order of secrecy was given to the Star Sheriffs in my name. Get Garret and look into it."

"Right away, sir."

The admiral sat down in his armchair. "We'll get to the bottom of this false order. Now back to your reports, Fireball. I want to know everything, from the very first moment you found Saber."  

"Aye, sir."

The telling took a very long time. With the help of his written reports and his friends, Fireball told Eagle what had happened and the various details and plans they had uncovered. By the time they were done, the day was nearly over.

Eagle paced behind his desk, digesting the news. Documents littered over his desk, all corresponding and supporting every bit of Fireball's report. 

"I don't like this," he said finally. "If what you've told me is true, then the New Frontier is in danger. The Council must know about this." 

He turned to Saber and asked, "How deeply were you involved?"

"We all had our parts in the missions. But both Conqueror and War planned and executed most of the missions into the New Frontier, disguising them as Outlaw attacks. I handled a lot of the military logistics. I know a great deal of our military power." 

"Not 'ours', Saber." April reminded gently. "'Theirs'. You're not one of them, remember?"

Saber flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry. I keep forgetting."

"Tell me about the other Horsemen."

"The Black Horseman is a bio-engineer by the name of Doctor Zhu'cov. He's very brilliant and gifted in his field. Unfortunately, he's also twisted in his mind. He engineered the changes for the Horsemen and he was the one behind the design of the Renegade-Hounds. He did other kinds of projects as well, for military purposes, and is highly secretive. I don't think even Conqueror knew about all the projects he orchestrated.

"War is a mystery. All I know is that the Red Horseman is a woman with a thirst for blood and chaos. She's mostly on her own, though she is the closest to Conqueror. In all the time I was Death, I had never seen her face. I think only Conqueror knew what she looked like." 

"And this Conqueror?" Eagle questioned. "Who is he?"

"Lord Conqueror is the ruler. Not much is known about his background. Some says he's the son of Nemesis who set his father up for the fall so he could rule instead. Others think he's a talented if psychotic general who seized control during their civil turmoil after their defeat. There are even wilder rumours about him being the direct descendant of the devil himself, but that's absolutely hogwash."

"What is he like?"

Saber looked down at his clasped fists. "He's absolutely brilliant, a true dictator and conqueror. He's very charismatic, despite his icy persona. He's not benevolent or kind. In fact, he can be downright cruel. Yet he's able to invoke absolute devotion and loyalty from his people. It's this extremely compelling aura of power and charisma he posses. You'd want to follow him because he's victory and people loves to be on the winning side. That's his edge, Admiral. He's been known to win fights without even lifting a finger. Opponents just cave in his presence."

"How do you feel about him, Saber?" 

"..."

"Saber?"

"I-I'm afraid of him."

In the silence that ensued, the others exchanged shocked looks. None of them had ever heard Saber admitting to fear so readily. Saber turned away shamefaced, unable to bear his friends' startled looks. 

Eagle sighed. "I understand. It would not look good on your psychological profile. If the review committee was to hear this though, Cavalry Command would not be so open to reinstating you."

"I know."  

"For now, I'm afraid I have to confine you to your quarters. Until we find out who gave that secrecy order, I don't want to risk exposing you to further danger." Eagle smiled apologetically at Saber. "I hope you understand."

"I do, sir."

"That will be all for today, Star Sheriffs. You have given the Council and I a lot to think about. With luck and enough time, I hope we can come up with some kind of defence against this new Outrider threat. Saber, I'll refer you to Cavalry Command Medical. If it's possible, we'll undo whatever...changes the Outriders had done to you."

"Thank you, sir." 

"Get some rest, Star Sheriffs."

They got up to leave, Saber hesitating. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to ask you not to tell my parents about Death."

Eagle frowned. "I suppose I could…but why not?"

"When I'm ready, I will tell them myself."

Eagle's gaze softened with understanding. "You have my word, Saber."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Two – A Moment of Reflection

       Colt peered concernedly at his friend rummaging through his duffel. "You sure you'll be all right by yourself?"

"Colt," Saber sighed. "For the hundredth time, yes, I'll be fine."

The cowboy still didn't look very convinced. "We can always stay in tonight, you know. Have dinner in our quarters and play a few rounds of poker."

"Great idea," Fireball quipped. "After all, I have yet to win back my money from you."

The Star Sheriffs' quarters were the family-type apartment buildings situated near the Yuma Air Base. The apartments were for soldiers who have families visiting them and thus had the same level of security as accorded to a military base. Normally, the Star Sheriffs would share a bunkhouse with other Star Sheriff units, but Admiral Eagle had chosen to house them in an apartment this time round. Saber knew this change of accommodation was to keep him away from public view until they have determined the sender of the secrecy order.

       "You can try, race-boy." Saber retorted. He paused in his task, sighing inwardly at their reluctance. "Lads, just because I'm confined to quarters doesn't mean you have to join me as well. This is your first night back home. You should enjoy it thoroughly."

"Yeah, but-" 

       "No buts. Go. Have fun. Don't make me throw you out."

       "Throw who out?" April asked, poking her head into Saber's bedroom. 

"Ah, perfect timing. April, drag your boyfriend and the cowboy out for the night."

       April giggled. "Afraid you'll cramp their styles, Top Sword?"

       "If they insist on hovering about me, I'll cramp more than just their styles."

"I don't hover," Fireball said indignantly.

"Oh really?" April arched a sceptic brow.

"April!"

Laughing, April pulled Fireball to his feet and pushed him out of Saber's bedroom. "Let's go, race-boy. You too, Colt. The night's waiting."

Grumbling, the two men followed April to the front door. Trailing behind, Saber leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom, watching them prepared to go out for the night. 

"Do you want anything?" April asked.

The Highlander shook his head. "Just make sure the driver's sober."

"Will do. See you later."

"Have fun, mates."

The front door clicked shut and silence descended, leaving Saber alone in their apartment quarters. He retreated to his bedroom and retrieved his toiletries. It had been a long day and there was nothing more he wanted to do now than to relax in a hot bath.

Saber sank into the hot water with a sigh of relief. Ramrod's bathrooms were utilitarian and didn't have tubs in order to conserve space and water. After weeks on the road, a hot bath felt like a luxury. He absently ran the sponge over his body, not thinking of anything, just concentrating on the motions of bathing. The sheer normalcy of the activity gradually got to him; easing wound up muscles and a tension he hadn't even known was there. 

He could almost convince himself that everything was back to normal.

Almost.

Saber paused in mid-stroke and studied his outstretched arm. Even clean, he could still feel the familiar warmth of blood staining his hand. It was psychological, he knew, but he had taken so many lives, it'd be impossible for him to feel clean again. The sponge dropped from his grasp as he flexed his biceps, watching impassively as the telltale bumps of implants rippled under his skin. He could feel the implants flexing alongside with his muscles, adjusting and shifting in accordance with his movements. As much as he wanted to deny it, they were a part of him as much as his own heart was.

He let his arm fell with a plop back in the hot water and slumped back against the side of the tub. 

His thoughts wandered back to Conqueror and what he had admitted in Eagle's office. Much as he disliked baring that little weakness – any weaknesses – it was the truth. Conqueror was nothing like Nemesis. He had faced Nemesis before, in that now-infamous trip to Vapour-Zone to retrieve the precious wilderbeasts. 

Nemesis had been a tyrant, a ruthless cruel ruler assured and accustomed to getting his way with force and with all the resources at his disposal. For all the fear Saber had felt at confronting Nemesis, he nevertheless managed to conquer that fear and fight for his own cause. But the Conqueror got his way in a much different manner. He seldom used brunt force. No, the Conqueror was subtler, more manipulative, using his charisma to bind and persuade people to believe him. His rule was more complete and pervasive, simply because he had made them believed in his cause and were willing to do anything for him. In comparison, Nemesis had been easy to fight.   

If he was to confront Conqueror again...

Saber shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. That single thought scared him like nothing else ever would. He hadn't told his friends, certainly not to Eagle, but what he was most afraid of was somehow Conqueror still has a hold over him. That if he confronts him again, Saber was terrified he would willingly turn traitor and serve him instead.  

His fist suddenly slammed against the surface of the water, splashing the wall and floor with soapy water. _It won't happen,_ he vowed fiercely. _I won't let it happen. Ever._

He scoped up the sponge and resuming bathing with harsh strokes. _I'm free,_ he sternly told himself. _And I'll do anything to stay free._

Saber suddenly froze, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Blue eyes narrowed, darting warily to the closed bathroom door. 

Someone was in the apartment.   

*      *      *

       "Do you think he'll be all right by himself?"

"Fireball, Saber's a big kid now. He can take care of himself."

"But look what happened the last time we let him go off on his own, April." 

Colt leaned forward from his back seat in the jeep. "Relax, race-boy. The apartment is guarded by tight security. No way the Outriders are just going to waltz in and spirit him away."

"And what if he leaves on his own volition?"

"You're being paranoid, compadre."

"Yeah." Pushing her hair out of her face, April studied Fireball's profile. "And why are you worrying so much?"

Fireball shot her a look. "You worry about him too, April."

"We all do," she acknowledged. "But I think it goes further in your case."

Fireball said nothing, keeping his gaze fixedly on the road.

Colt craned his head and peered at his friend. "You're still feeling guilty over his abduction."

The flex of his jaws was the only indication Fireball gave.

"Fireball," April clasped a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can't blame yourself for something you couldn't have known would happen."

"He's my friend, April. He's been in hell for five years while we-"

"Continue our job as Star Sheriffs, keeping the peace and upholding justice in the New Frontier," April cut in. "That would be exactly what Saber wanted. The safety of the New Frontier comes before a single person's welfare."

"Still doesn't ease the guilt in the slightest."

"You'll get over it. He's back with us. Things will get better."

A comfortable silence fell in the jeep as their jeep sped along the highway towards the city of Yuma. 

"Guys," Colt spoke. "Have you noticed how...oddly Saber's been behaving around me?"

"Odd? Like how?" Fireball asked. 

"I dunno. Like he has something to tell me but he doesn't know how, or rather he couldn't find the courage to do so."

"Maybe he's just surprised or curious." April suggested uncertainly. "You weren't this...well, irrepressible years ago."

Colt scowled at her. "Me? Irrepressible?"

"Did he ask about Robin?" Fireball asked abruptly.

Colt's expression instantly shuttered. "Yeah, he did. I told him."

April gently squeezed the cowboy's hand, her comforting gesture speaking more than any words could.

The rest of the journey was spent in companionable silence, only broken when they have reached their all-time favourite restaurant-bar _Ol' Whistler_. The festive atmosphere and jaunty music pouring out from that place was more than enough to push away any sombre thoughts they might still carry.

"Yo! Fireball!" Came the yell the minute they entered the place.

In a blink of an eye, the caller latched himself to Fireball's side, a friendly arm about the Japanese's shoulder and a half-empty whisky bottle in his other hand.

"Hello, Street." 

Street was another Star Sheriff, with the Rampart unit, gregarious and one hell of a pilot, and fast on his way on getting soused.   

"Welcome back, race-boy. How was your tour-of-duty?"

"The usual." Fireball tipped his chin, indicating the half-empty bottle of whisky. "How much of that have you had already?"

"Oh this," Street waved the bottle airily. "My second."

"Third actually," cut in a new voice.

Street scowled at the sexy brunette clad in body-hugging leather apparel. "Second, Lila. Second."

Lila simply rolled her eyes. "You guys got a seat yet?"

"Nope." Colt gave her a rakish once-over. "You look fabulous, Lila."

She coyly tossed her coiffed hair. "Thank you, Colt." 

"We got get you two a room," April said dryly.

Lila laughed and the two women exchanged a warm hug. 

"Can't help it," Lila admitted. She linked arms with April. "Come on, our table's big enough to seat you guys as well."

"We'll gonna have a blast tonight," Street sang.

"Not if you're stone drunk," Fireball retorted, helping the unsteady pilot to their table. 

"So where is he?" Lila asked casually.

"Who?"

Lila looked surprised. "You know, Saber."

They covered up their reactions swiftly. 

"You know very well he's missing," April managed to say in an even tone.   

Lila blinked surprised. "I thought I saw him disembarking Ramrod with you guys on the air field earlier today."

"You must've saw wrong," Colt said easily. "No one but us three left Ramrod."

For a moment, Lila looked doubtful. She was about to argue her case when she saw the shuttered look in their eyes. Mentally shrugging, she dropped the subject. She understood the pain of losing a team-mate all too well.

Fireball quietly let out a sigh of relief. That has been a close call.

*      *      *

       Wrapped in a terry cloth bathrobe and armed with his blaster, Saber slinked noiselessly from the bathroom. The floor was icy beneath his damp bare feet and there was an equally chilly breeze coming from his bedroom.

Saber eyed the darkened entrance to his bedroom warily. The chilly draft was only possible if a window was left open. But he had closed the window before he took his bath...  

He burst into his bedroom, blaster held high. His gaze scanned the interior rapidly, swiftly settling on the dark figure seated in the armchair next to the open window. He stared a moment longer, trying to make out the intruder's features in the dim moonlight. 

"You," Saber suddenly spat.

The man's inky black clothes blended perfectly into the night. As usual, his face was concealed behind a black metallic mask that glinted dimly in the moonlight. 

"Yes, me." Nemo confirmed amiably. "How do you find Yuma?" 

Saber got up from his crouch, lowering his blaster slightly. He still did not trust this strange Outrider who rescued him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, ignoring Nemo's question.

"Is that how you greet your rescuer, Star Sheriff?"

"I'm not yet reinstated, Outrider." A thought occurred to him. "You knew what happened to me during that five years, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell my friends sooner?"

"And what can they do? They can't jump dimensions. Your soldiers constantly surrounded you. I had to bid my time before I could isolate you and get you away from Black Ice. As it is, I think it all turned out for the best." 

"Why did you rescue me?"

"Like I've said, I refused to be caught helpless in the coming storm."

Saber shook his head. "Not good enough."

Nemo rose from his seat. Like an inky black shadow, he glided across the room to Saber who held his ground at his approach. 

"I want you as my ally," the enigmatic Outrider said seriously. "I sense in you a strength rarely found in this world. You may be the only person who can stand up to _him_."

"You forgot how easily he broke me."

"Anyone would break under that kind of torture. It's what happen next that is important."

"You mean rebuilding my strength and confront him again?" Saber couldn't help the shudder at that thought.

Nemo regarded him silently for a long while. The eyeholes of his mask were covered with black opaque glass, yet Saber could feel the intense scrutiny that was beginning to unnerve him. 

"Who exactly are you afraid of?" Nemo asked softly. 

"What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean – Pale Rider."

Saber couldn't help but flinch at the sound of that title. "I don't know what you mean," he reiterated. 

"Are you afraid of him or yourself?" 

"...I don't know." The words left him on an uncertain whisper, lost in the silence of his room. "I don't know anything anymore."

Silence ticked by in precious seconds.

An odd sound escaped behind from that blank metal mask.

Saber's gaze jerked up surprised. He could have sworn it sounded like a chuckle. He stared at Nemo, sensing him smiling beneath that mask.

"You'll find your way again. And when you do, you'll know what to do." Nemo withdrew, gliding over to the open window. "But better do it fast. He will not leave you alone for long."

Saber stared at him incredulously, not believing his ears. This...stranger had such unshakeable confidence in him that it was almost mind-boggling. 

He snapped out of his confusion when he saw Nemo bracing to heave himself out of the window. "Wait! How do I contact you?"

"_I_ contact you. Oh, and by the way, beware of scythe." 

"What?"

Saber rushed to the window and leaned out, searching for the man who had all but leapt out of the window. But Nemo had disappeared into the night.

* * *

Three – The Calvary Command Intelligence

The insistent ringing of the doorbell roused the Star Sheriffs from their sleep. 

Colt groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow. It was too early and his head ached too much to tolerate that kind of noise. Despite the pillow, he could hear Fireball cursing as he stomped for the door. He gave up. Throwing aside his pillow, he pulled on his pants and grabbed his blaster. He was gonna shoot the moron who disturbed his sleep.

They had gotten back very late the previous night. Both Fireball and him were suffering from mild cases of hangovers. Add the lack of sleep and the noise to their aching heads...well, neither he nor Fireball were in the best of moods.     

An equally bleary-eyed April followed Fireball and Colt to the front door. Saber silently joined them from the balcony. The Japanese man threw him a look. Despite his general shitty disposition, Fireball noticed that Saber was fully dressed and armed, a clear indication that he had not slept at all during the night.

Colt flung open the front door, greeting the uniformed soldiers with the business end of his blaster.

All three soldiers momentarily froze. It was not everyday one was confronted by a dishevelled, irritated and sleepy-eyed Star Sheriff brandishing a gun in their face.

"What do you want?" Fireball barked. 

With a visible effort, the soldier who had ringing the doorbell reclaimed his composure and snapped a smart salute. 

"Lieutenant Malcolm Crest, sir. Cavalry Command Intelligence. I'm here to see Mister Saber Rider."

Fireball woke up completely at once, as did April and Colt.

Cavalry Command Intelligence, or CCI for short, was the espionage branch of the New Frontier military. The Star Sheriffs have their share of top-secret missions and were familiar with the nature of covert operations. But they were still essentially Star Sheriffs at heart – the policing force of the New Frontier dedicated to protecting the ordinary people. They were the ones the masses turned to for help and rely on for justice and protection; the good guys in white. 

Cavalry Command Intelligence, with their shadowy methods and shades of grey, was the complete opposite of them. For the CCI, as long as it fulfils the goal of protecting the New Frontier, any method will be considered, any risks and sacrifices acceptable. 

To have three CCI agents arriving at your front door at the crack of dawn...Fireball didn't like it one bit.

"What do you want with him?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm afraid that's classified information, Captain Fireball. For Mister Rider's ears only."

"Captain," Colt corrected irritably. "You address him as 'Captain', Lieutenant."  

"Mister Rider has not been reinstated as a Cavalry soldier. The address is moot." Ignoring Colt's glower, Crest turned to the silent Highlander. "Our car is waiting downstairs, Mister Rider."

It was certainly not a request.

"He has been confined to quarters," Fireball stated firmly. "He's not going anywhere."

"If you want to know what the Outriders have been up to, you will come with us."

"Don't listen to them, Saber." Fireball glared at the agents, furious that they would use such a ploy.

Saber studied the young Intelligence agent for a long moment. Then he nodded curtly and reached for his jacket.

"Saber-" Fireball began.

"I'm not going alone. You guys would have to accompany me." Saber smiled a tiny sly smile. "After all, I am a _civilian_."

Fireball caught on quickly. He grinned lopsidedly at the Highlander. "And part of the Star Sheriffs' mission is to protect the civilians."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," Crest objected.

"Of course you can," Fireball said in a voice that brooked no argument. "_Mister_ Saber Rider is a civilian in our custody. We would have to escort him wherever he goes."

*      *      *

       The CCI headquarters was simply named as Base G1, a little known and highly restricted base tucked away in a secluded corner of Wayer Mountain Range. It was a long drive from Yuma Air Base and Saber didn't intend to spend it all in stoic silence. 

The journey was tense and uncomfortable as he engaged in a staring match with Lieutenant Crest. Flanked by Fireball and Colt, Saber took his time assessing the CCI agent. Crest stared right back at them. April was not with them, having a different mission: to contact Admiral Eagle and have him run much needed interference.

Lieutenant Malcolm Crest was a young man, just reaching his twenties. He had plain features, was very harmless-looking, and had neatly combed brown hair and equally forgettable brown eyes framed by a pair of rimless spectacles. His uniform was perfectly ironed, crisp and smart, from his stiff collar to his spit-shone shoes.  

He looked and acted very much like an anal-retentive administrator, Saber mused.

Fireball was seriously questioning his abilities as a covert agent.

Colt wondered if the young man truly had an iron rod up his a–

"Lieutenant, how did CCI know I was back?" Saber asked.

"We have our methods. There's practically nothing on this planet that comes and goes without our knowing. Your little adventures on Dagora and Amarado weren't exactly low-profile either. It was easy for us to put two and two together."

       "So you would be the person who sent us that secrecy order under Admiral Eagle's name."

       Three gazes, two disbelieving and one surprised, swivelled to his direction. 

       "The CCI has changed for the worse since I transferred to the Star Sheriffs so long ago," Saber reflected calmly. "I don't remember the agents in my time being so high-handed and thought nothing of impersonating a higher-ranking officer. You could have been court-martialled if you're found out even if you're CCI." 

       "It was a risk I willingly took," Crest said.

       "And why's that?" 

       Crest adjusted his spectacles. "Whatever I am about to tell you stays with you. It goes no further than this car."

       "All right."

       "I can live with that," Colt shrugged.

       "What do you know about the _Oregon_ incident?"

       "Just what's in the papers," Fireball said. "A little over seven months ago, the freighter _Oregon_ was raided by Star Sheriffs of the Rampart unit just before they entered Yuma airspace. About half a million's worth of contraband was seized."

       "You got most of it correct. The contraband though was misinformation deliberately fed to the media. In actual fact, what the Rampart unit stumbled across was human cargo."

       "Illegal immigrants?" 

       "No. Human cargo." From his breast pocket, Crest took out a data padd and passed it over to them. "To be more precise, ten humans in cryogenic sleep."

       With both Fireball and Colt peering over his shoulders, Saber rapidly read through the data padd. 

       "When CCI heard about this," Crest continued, "we took over the case at once. Rampart unit was ordered to secrecy and we transported the cryogenic cases to our base. We thawed the victims but they still remained in a comatose state." 

       A chill of foreboding ran down Fireball's spine.       

       "We tried various means of waking them but no success. All of ten of them are in the best of health, but essentially they're vegetables." Crest cocked his head. "Does any of these sound familiar, Mister Rider?"

       Fireball scowled suspiciously at Crest. "What are you getting at, Lieutenant?"

       "When Doctor Pierre alerted Doctor McGregor to your condition, we are amazed at the similarities between the two cases. However you are the only one who woke up. I believe you are the only one who can help us wake these victims and solve the case, Mister Rider."

       "What about the crew of the _Oregon_? Surely they must've been arrested."

       "They died," Crest said shortly. "Committed suicide in their prison cells before we had a chance to interrogate them and vaporised."

       "Outriders," Saber stated, surprising himself with the calmness of his voice.

       Crest nodded grimly. "Now you see why I need your help."

*      *      *

       "Wait!" 

Huffing, April dashed the last few metres to the shuttle, clambering on board seconds before the hatch closed. As the shuttle began to takeoff, April leaned against the bunk head, one hand on her knees, as she tried to catch her breath.  

"April?" Elise stared in astonishment at the panting blond woman. April's long blond hair, normally braided neatly, cascaded down her back in loose dishevelled tresses.

"Hi, Elise. Where's my dad?" April pushed herself upright. "I need to speak to him right away."

"He's in the main cabin. He's free at the moment." Elise led the young woman to the cabin. She knocked politely at the closed door. "Admiral? Your daughter's here."

"April?" Eagle rose from his seat as she pushed her way to him. He looked at her agitated appearance in concern. "What's wrong?"

"It's Saber. The CCI got him." Quickly, April told him about the morning visit.

Eagle's brows furrowed. "Did you say one of them identified himself as Malcolm Crest?"

She nodded.

"It must be that incident," he murmured to no one in particular. 

"What incident, Daddy? What has it got to do with Saber?"

"The _Oregon_ raid."

"I read about that in the news. I asked Lila and Street last night too. All they said it was just contraband. What has contraband got to do with Saber?"

"I wish it was just contraband."

"Daddy, please tell me."

Eagle sighed. "It's a long story. You must keep it a secret, April."

"I will," she promised. "You can tell me on our way back."

"That's not possible now. I'm heading for the Yuma Space Station to welcome some very important visitors."

"But Saber-"     

"Can hold his own for a while." Eagle's stern tone softened at her disappointed expression. "He is not made of glass, April."

April hung her head shamefacedly. "I'm just afraid he will vanish again. None of us want to go through that again."  

Eagle sat down beside his daughter and gave her a hug. "I understand, April. Beside he has Fireball and Colt with him, am I right?"

She nodded.

"Those two won't let any harm come to him. Although I do think you guys have to stop cloistering him. He hates that."

April laughed a little. "He practically threw us out last night because we won't stop hovering."

"See what I mean?" Eagle gazed out of the pot window to see blue sky. "Well, since we're in flight already, you might as well come with me to greet my visitors."

"Who are they?"

A glint of mystery touched Eagle's brown eyes. "Just wait and you'll find out." 

*      *      *

       So far out from the city and the protective influence of the climate-control sphere, the Star Sheriffs felt the full brunt of the brilliance and heat of the desert sun. 

The small Cavalry Command base huddled at the base of the mountain range, unimpressive, forlorn and quite deserted. It certainly did not look defensible at all, at least not on the surface. 

Underground was another matter.

Colt whistled when the elevator door slid open and the Star Sheriffs got their first look of the CCI base.

A long corridor stretched away, intersecting with several other corridors. The walls and floor were plexi-steel, kept brightly lit by overhead lights. These corridors were teeming with soldiers. It was by no means as busy as a normal Cavalry Command base, but compared to the deserted look on the surface, it was certainly bustling. 

"Cool," Colt said. He studied each of the closed doors they passed. All of them were marked only by a series of numbers and letters. "What's behind these doors?"

"None of your business," Crest replied crisply. "That's why they are marked with codes only the people working on this base would know."

Colt rolled his eyes.

"Where are you taking us?" Fireball questioned.

"To the hospital ward. We are keeping the victims isolated until we solve the case."

They finally stopped at a door marked 'HW-29'. Crest punched in a series of number into the door control panel. When the door slid open, he stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter first.

Saber hesitated for a long while at the threshold, trying to convince himself to enter the hospital. Finally bracing himself, he took one step inside and stopped dead in his tracks. Behind him, he heard Fireball's sharp intake of breath and Colt's hissed oath.

Ten bed, five in a row, lined up against the walls on both sides. Patients clad in plain hospital pyjamas occupied them all. An eerie silence hung in the ward, a silence borne of stillness and the absence of human spirit, broken only by the quiet beeping of monitoring machines.

Saber forced himself to walk into the ward. 

They all appeared to be sleeping; he could pretend to himself that they were simply fast asleep. But Saber didn't bother. There was something about their absolute stillness that told him otherwise. 

He stopped at the foot of a bed, staring at the still comatose adult man lying in it. The man's face was peacefully composed, his limbs arranged neatly over the blanket. Avoidance from the sun had washed out his tan to a pale hue. 

_Do I look like that when I was in my coma?_ He wondered. _So still and pale that I could almost be dead?_

Slowly, he moved on to the next bed and halted, stricken by what he saw. 

Two pigtails of chestnut curls tied with pink ribbons framed a chubby face, sweet and innocent. Thick lashes rested against her pale cheeks and her closed mouth was a pale rosebud. Someone, a nurse perhaps, had arranged her arms to cuddle a teddy bear – a doll carrying a doll. 

The girl could not be more than eight years old.

Saber slowly reached out to her. Distantly, he wondered at the steadiness of his hand as he carefully brushed aside her fringe. Against his callused fingers, her skin was cool to his touch. 

"Her name is Maggie," said a voice. 

Saber looked up. A middle-aged doctor stood beside Crest. He had a kind face and even kinder eyes. There were streaks of grey in his black hair. 

"She lived at Blue Mountain Cattle Ranch with her parents," said the doctor. "The Outlaws raided the cattle ranch several months ago. Her parents were killed and she was missing until now." The doctor fondly smoothed Maggie's hair. "She will be turning nine in two weeks' time."

He smiled at the Star Sheriffs' wary looks and held out his hand to Saber. "I'm sorry. We haven't been properly introduced yet. I'm Doctor Miles McGregor, the HMO of this hospital. Welcome to Base G1. I've been wanting to meet you, Captain Rider."

"Mister," Saber corrected softly. "I'm a civilian now. What's wrong with them?"

"I was hoping you could answer that question," McGregor replied. He gestured to the exit. "Perhaps we should go to my office. I believe we have a lot to talk about."    

*      *      *

McGregor sat the tray of mugs of hot coffee onto the table. "I believe Lieutenant Crest had told you about how we had rescued my patients. Did he also tell you who was behind their abduction?"

Colt nodded. "We weren't surprised, doc. When we were on Planet Dagora, Outriders tried to recapture Saber. That was when we found out who was behind his abduction in the first place."

McGregor took out a data disc from his desk drawer. "Doctor Pierre has forwarded me a copy of your complete medical report. It's very intriguing. Your condition is very similar to those of my patients. The only differences I could spot are the implants grafted to your body and your rewritten DNA. According to your medical report, invasive bio-engineering had been performed on you. Much of your changed or enhanced abilities stem from these implants and your rewritten DNA."

"So can these implants be removed?" Colt wanted to know.

"I'm afraid not. The implants have essentially become part of Saber's vital organs. To remove them will be fatal to him. I have to agree with Doctor Pierre that the activation of the implant attached to your pituitary gland was what woke you up. My problem is that none of my patients have implants like yours. Neither do they have rewritten DNA sequences."

"So how can I help?"

"Basically, we like to find out how you managed to wake up on your own." Crest added. "If we can find the trigger, it might give us something to work on further."

"But Doctor Pierre said that unless something was introduced to 'kick-start' Saber's system, he wouldn't wake up at all." Colt said thoughtfully. 

"Could that be it? Danger?" Fireball guessed. "He was in danger of losing his life. We were in danger of being killed too. If he hadn't woken when he did, the Outriders might have taken him back to the Vapour-Zone already." 

"I don't remember much of those moments," Saber's frown got deeper. "What did I do?"

"You kicked butts," Colt said bluntly. "Didn't take you long to kill them. Similar to your fight with that Renegade-Hound on Amarado."

"Could it be a built-in defence mechanism?" Fireball asked McGregor. "That he was meant to wake up when he was in danger?"

"Maybe but I don't think so," replied McGregor. "The sum of the human body is nothing more than a whole bunch of chemical reactions taking place." 

"So a chemical was introduced into Saber?" Colt stated.

"But Doctor Pierre didn't dare use any drugs on you," Fireball pointed out. "He didn't know how your altered physique would react, so he refrained from using any drugs. No other doctors attended to you. _We_ barely left you alone..." 

"What?" Colt pressed, seeing the realisation dawning on Fireball's face.

Fireball looked at Saber. "The night before you were kidnapped. I spent that night in your ward, watching over you. I left to get coffee and a blanket for a short while. Anyone could have entered your ward while I was gone." 

The three friends stared at each other, the same thought clearly running through their minds. 

Nemo. 

There was no one else who fitted the bill perfectly.

"If it was a drug of some kind, it'd be impossible to trace by now." Crest pointed out. "Your system would have broken it down and flushed it out already. Would you happen to know what kind of drug would work on you?"

Saber fell silent, digging through his memories, trying to recall something from those encounters with Zhu'cov in his labs. Finally he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I don't really know much about my...changed physique."

Crest finally stirred from his spot. "Then it'd seem we'd need to ask someone else."

McGregor shot a look to Crest, to which the lieutenant nodded in reply. The doctor sighed and turned back to face Saber with a solemn expression tinged with sympathy.

"What?" Saber didn't like that expression.

"Believe me, Captain, when I say if I could find another way, I wouldn't put you through this."

"What exactly is this?" Saber asked warily.

McGregor took a deep breath. "I'd like to speak to Death."

* * *

Four – Scythe And A Skeletal Crest of Bone

Saber froze in his seat, an icy chill wrapping its claws around his heart. Only the sudden paling of his face indicated the depth of his shock. He couldn't think, couldn't even react as he stared at the doctor.

"How...?" he forced the word through numbed lips.

Fireball was on his feet in an instant. 

"Who told you?" he demanded. "We told no one except for Admiral Eagle. Who told you?"

"Nobody," Crest answered calmly. "The CCI has been sending spies into the Vapour-Zone for the past couple of years. We know all about the new threat the Outriders pose. We know that the Outlaws raiding the New Frontier are actually the Outriders. We've known about their leader, the Lord Conqueror, and his Horsemen, for quite some time. We were well aware of Death's true identity."

       Dead silence fell so suddenly that you could hear a pin drop. 

       The Star Sheriffs stared at the calm CCI agent, not daring to believe their ears. They knew, the goddamned CCI knew and chose to do nothing about it. 

       "You...you..." Fireball sputtered, so angry that he was incoherent. He took a deep breath and roared, "_What the hell kind of Intelligence agent are you?! Why didn't you tell us then?!_" 

       Crest shrugged. "We had thought him a lost cause."

       "Nobody's a lost cause," Fireball snapped. "Nobody!"

       "How long have you known?" Colt, surprisingly, was calm. But there was something in his soft voice that caught Saber's attention and started his numbed mind working again. He shifted in his chair, staring at the cowboy who stood too still and his hand too close to his blaster.  

       "Three years."

"Three years..." Saber slowly rose to his feet, inexplicably alarmed all of a sudden. The wild rage and grief radiating from the cowboy was frightening in its intensity. He had never seen the cowboy so close to losing his cool before. Apparently, Fireball also sensed the dangerous rage boiling in Colt. The race-boy was at his side, physically trying to restrain him from reaching for his blaster. 

"Colt, don't." 

"Three years, Fireball. Three years ago. That's when they killed Robin. If we had known about the Outriders then, she wouldn't have died!"

"I know, I know," Fireball said quickly. Sorrow clouded his face. "But nothing you do now can change it. All we can do is find the culprit and find out why the son-of-a-bitch did it. All right?" 

He urged the cowboy to sit down again. He looked at Saber over Colt's head and was startled to find the Highlander staring at the grieving cowboy with pain and - guilt? - in his eyes.  

"My apologies, Colt." Crest said. "I forgot that you had lost your fiancée to the Outlaws."

"What would you know of loss?" Fireball glared at the agent, hating this man for reopening old wounds that had never quite healed in the first place.  

"Death is dead," Saber spoke then. He looked the CCI agent and McGregor in the eyes and said very firmly, "he's not coming back. Ever."

"Actually, he's not." McGregor corrected gently. "If my diagnosis is correct, this - artificial personality, shall we say – is a part of you. Granted it is the fruition of brainwashing and implant-control, but I believe that a part of it is still derived from you. I think you know that too, Captain." 

Saber looked away, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"The only way now to help these people is to speak to one of the four Horsemen," McGregor continued. "If Death has the answers we need, then little Maggie will be awake in time to celebrate her ninth birthday."

It was a dirty blow. Fireball angrily opened his mouth to say so, but Saber beat him to it.

"I-I'll think about it."

McGregor nodded solemnly. "I'll be waiting for your answer in the morning."

* * *

Link to side story - The Tranquillity Massacre****

**

* * *

**

Night had fallen over the rocky desert. Despite the freezing temperature, the Star Sheriffs chose to have their dinner outdoors where they could see the stars. It was unspoken; none of them wanted to be cooped up in the underground facility where they were given polite but nevertheless suspicious treatment. Crest did told them that visitors to the base were far and few and CCI agents were a suspicious lot. It was a relief to get away from them for a while.

Fireball let out a yawn as he flopped onto his back, joining Colt on the ground. "What a day." He turned his head. Against the dark moonless night, Saber was a barely discernible silhouette, arms folded around bent legs. "What are you thinking of?"

"The little girl, Maggie. She doesn't deserved to be in a coma. If I could actually help her..."

"Even if it means taking the risk that Death might just completely overwhelm your personality?"

Saber didn't answer.

Fireball turned to his other friend, who had been unusually quiet ever since his outburst in Doctor McGregor's office. "What are you thinking about, Colt?" 

"Hmm...nothing much," Colt replied. His lips quirked up in a distant smile. "Robin loves nights like this."

In the darkness, no one could see the sudden rigidity in Saber's posture. His fingers dug deeper into his upraised knee as he listened to Colt's wistful reminiscences of happier times.

"Clear night sky, and you can see the stars as far as the horizon. She used to give astronomy lessons to the kids at Tranquillity on these nights, teaching them the names of the constellations...I was planning to buy her a new telescope for her birthday."

Colt shifted his gaze from the night sky to the upright black shape. "Ne, Saber?" 

"Yes, Colt?" Saber tried to keep his voice even.

"Why Tranquillity?" 

"..."

Colt propped his head up on a hand, his expression for once serious and earnest. "I'm not going to accuse you or anything like that, Saber. But I need to know. Why did they do it? There was nothing of value in Tranquillity. It was just a modest self-sufficient community whose only desire is to live in peace. Why did they do it?"

"Colt, I -"

"Captain Fireball?" Crest emerged from the building's shadows, stopping whatever Saber was about to say. 

Fireball sat up, glaring at the CCI agent. He still hadn't forgiven Crest for his tactless revelation earlier in the day. "What?"

"Just to let you know that we'll be closing the entrance in another hour's time. I'd suggest retiring to your rooms soon, gentlemen. It'll be a tiring day tomorrow, especially for Mister Saber."

"Thanks." Fireball said shortly. "We'll be there in an hour's time."

"The desert's a dangerous place at night, Captain."

"We've been in worse situations, Lieutenant. Dismiss." 

"Yes, sir." Crest said stiffly. Spinning round, the CCI agent stalked back into the building.

Colt arched an eyebrow. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"The jerk has it coming. He has absolutely no tact." Fireball looked up as Saber got to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"To enjoy the night air before we have to go back underground. Don't worry. I won't go far. I just...need to clear my head." Colt could feel Saber's gaze on him. "You will have your answer, Colt. I promise you that."   

Colt nodded slowly. "All right, Saber."

Turning, Saber walked off into the night.

He strolled around the perimeter of the base, hands tucked in his pockets and head bowed nearly to his chest. His footsteps were almost silent despite the hard-shod boots he wore. It was very dark out in the desert, but sunk as deep as he was in his thoughts, Saber hardly noticed.

He owed Colt an explanation. He deserved to know why Tranquillity was razed, but could his friend accept what he did? Saber paused and raised his eyes to the black sky. How would his friend react? How do he even tell Colt that he-?

The hackles rose on his neck. Belatedly, he sensed strange eyes watching him. The feeling of being watched consolidated into a hard lump in his stomach. Cursing himself for being so distracted, Saber turned carefully to check his surroundings, discreetly reaching for his blaster. 

"Who's there?" he asked in a low even voice.

If the night wasn't this quiet, Saber doubted he would have heard the slight rustle of cloth and the soft patter of footsteps running away. He promptly gave chase, tracking the sounds to a secluded area of the base. Rounding a corner, he halted abruptly, realising that he had trapped the intruder in a dead end. He advanced warily, one hand slipping his blaster from his shoulder holster. Despite the darkness, Saber could see that the intruder was wearing a heavy cloak that concealed every aspect of him. Yet there was something familiar about the diminutive intruder, something that nagged at him at the back of his mind. 

"You're trespassing on military ground. Put your hands where I can see them."   

The intruder hesitatingly raised his arms. Then quite abruptly, to Saber's surprise, he fell to his face in a prostrating bow. 

"Master." 

The contralto whisper reached Saber's ears, so full of adoration and joy, that it sent a tremor through him. And just like that, he knew. He knew that voice, that whispering seduction that was neither male nor female, yet both, and the weapon behind the childlike speech that consented to be only his and no one else.  

Rigidly, he held his ground, fighting the urge to run, as the intruder crawled sinuously towards him on hands and knees. All the while, the silky murmuring wrapped its words around him. 

"Master, sweet Master has come back. Scythe has been waiting for so long, waiting eagerly for the day when Master will wield Scythe." Still on Scythe's knees, Scythe wrapped lithe sinuous arms about Saber's hips, hugging him, cooing softly. "Scythe is so happy, so very happy." 

With shaking hands, Saber reached down and pushed back the heavy hood.

Thick silver hair spilled across his hand. The jagged tresses framed a tiny narrow brown-skinned face, the features angular and sharply defined and completely androgynous; Saber could never figure out if he was a she or vice versa. Slanted eyes of the same metallic silver stared adoringly up at him, the slit of the shining irises reminding him of cat's eyes. The ears were pointed; the arms wrapped around his hips were bare and marked with protruding ridges along the forearms. Even through his clothes, he could feel the sharp claws on the hands pressing against his trousers. When the intruder smiled, he could see two rows of gleaming sharp teeth. The rest of the body was hidden beneath the cloak, but a tail emerged from beneath the cloak, a furry tail that tapered to a sickle-shaped bone blade. 

Inhuman in appearance, the intruder nevertheless possessed a strange alien beauty that was impossible to tear one's gaze from. The intruder was attractive in the same manner a fine handcrafted sword was – a weapon not only meant to be pleasing to the eye but also to be the best at what it does.

Saber recognised that face. "Scythe."

Scythe beamed happily up at him. "Master remembers Scythe. People say Master has forgotten about Scythe, but Scythe did not believe. Scythe knew Master would never forget Scythe." 

Scythe rose, arms entwining around Saber's neck. The sinuous body pressed close and Scythe licked him on the cheek, purring happily.

"I thought you fell to your death."

"No, Master. Master's hand did not touch Scythe. Scythe lives, saved by cold man."

That shook Saber out of his shock. He grasped the thin shoulders and pushed Scythe away. "Black Ice sent you here?"

"Yes, Master. Cold man said Master was in trouble and only Scythe could help Master. So Scythe came to find Master." Scythe reached for Saber again. "Scythe misses Master. Scythe is so happy to find Master well."

Again, Saber held Scythe at bay. His mind was scrambling for a foothold, trying to digest this latest complication in his life. 

Scythe peered up at him, confusion clouding silver eyes. "Master not happy to see Scythe? Did Scythe displease Master by coming?"

"Go back."

Scythe pulled back, hurt. 

Saber looked at Scythe firmly. "Death is dead, Scythe. He will not be wielding you any longer."

"No! Master is alive." Scythe reached out and placed a hand over his pounding heart. "See? Master's heart is still beating. Master recognises Scythe."

"Go back."

Scythe shook Scythe's head vehemently. 

In a move too quick to see, Scythe pushed Saber to the ground. Long silver hair fell across his chest as Scythe straddled his torso, planting both clawed hands firmly against his shoulders. Saber tried to shove Scythe away, but the sharply beautiful weapon refused to be budged. For all of Scythe's diminutive stature, Scythe was surprisingly strong.   

"Master, Master," Scythe chanted softly. Scythe bit one bare wrist and brought the bleeding limb to Saber's mouth. "Please drink. Scythe needs to know that Master still loves Scythe. Does Master remember that? Please tell Scythe." 

Saber's nostrils flared as the scent of Scythe's blood reached him, stirring the hunger within him. Warning bells sounded in his mind. He mustn't drink Scythe's blood. It was tailored to his physique, a drug to keep him addicted and under Black Ice's control. To drink it now would be returning to that hellish time again. 

But Scythe was insistent, pushing Scythe's bleeding wrist against his lips. Saber fought hard, trying to resist the seductive temptation. A drop of ruby blood fell from the tip of a clawed finger and hit the corner of his mouth. Despite himself, Saber couldn't help but lick it. 

He shuddered. Scythe's blood remained as potent as he remembered.   

"Does Master still love Scythe? Scythe is so lonely without Master. No one cares for Scythe. Only Master cares." 

Scythe curled up against his chest, arms around his shoulders, and buried Scythe's face against his neck. Instinctively, Saber's arms reached up to wrap around the slim body, holding Scythe close. The memories of those nights threatened to drown him. He closed his eyes against those images.

"Please don't send Scythe away." Came the muffled plea. "Scythe will be good. Scythe wants to stay with Master forever and ever."

The plea almost did Saber in. He knew Scythe was completely ignorant of deception and lies. In a world where everyone could not be trusted, including the Horsemen, Scythe was the only trustworthy one. Scythe's plea was heartfelt and true, but Scythe's simplistic nature was so easy to manipulate. Scythe was not here of Scythe's own choice but because Black Ice had manoeuvred Scythe into coming. 

Jaws clenching, Saber grasped the slim shoulders and firmly pushed Scythe away, dislodging the weapon from him. He sat up, trying his best not to be affected by the utter misery and loneliness in those silver eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, fully intending to refuse Scythe.

"Saber!"

They both jerked, startled to hear Fireball's far-off call. Saber glanced nervously at the alley entrance and back to Scythe. If Fireball and Colt find Scythe here...somehow he was strangely reluctant to let his friends know about Scythe. 

"Go," he said.

Scythe shook Scythe's head. "No, Scythe wants to stay."         

Saber got to his feet, almost yanking Scythe to Scythe's feet, as he thought rapidly. "Master needs you to stay out of sight. Wait out of sight and close by until Master calls you."

Scythe gazed uncertainly at him. "Really?"

"Are you questioning me?" Saber snapped.

Scythe cringed. "Sorry! Sorry!"

Saber's stance softened, feeling somewhat guilty for intimidating the childlike weapon. 

"Saber!" came Fireball's call away, this time much closer.

At his wits' end, Saber did the only thing he knew would convince Scythe to leave. He grasped the bleeding wrist and, mentally bracing himself, touched his lips to the open wound, resisting the urge to drink. Just as quickly, he dropped the wrist and licked the blood from his lips.

"Now go."

Scythe smiled, a brilliant smile that exposed gleaming sharp teeth. Scythe stepped close and licked his cheek again, pressing a hard package wrapped in soft cloth into his hands. 

"Scythe is waiting, Master."      

Then Scythe was gone, disappearing rapidly into the darkness.

Saber stood motionlessly for a few moments in the alley. Then like a puppet with its strings cut, he sagged against the wall, shaking like a leaf. 

Scythe was the last person he had expected to see, believing the weapon to be dead. He wiped his mouth, shuddering at the smell of blood. Scythe's blood scent was the most fragrant perfume in the world and so potent. Already he wanted more. 

He stared at the package Scythe gave him. Hesitantly, he unwrapped the black velvet cloth. Blood roared in his ears as his heart thundered crazily. He stared at the object in his hands, the single incriminating proof of his sins. 

It was a skeletal crest of bone.

"Saber!" Fireball called again, this time sounding much closer.

Hastily, Saber rewrapped the crest and tucked it beneath his jacket beside his holstered blaster, an accusing memento of his crimes burning him even through his shirt. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Saber left the dead end to rejoin his friends.  

* * *

Link to side story - Scythe****

**

* * *

**


	2. Reconciliation Chapter 5 to 7

Five – Conversations with Death

Saber woke up the next morning, feeling more weary and troubled than when he had gone to bed. He had not slept very well, tossing and turning while fighting the recurring nightmares. Scythe had figured prominently in those nightmares, kept him hovering on the knife-edge between revulsion and pleasure. Even now, despite vigorous rinsing, he could still taste Scythe's blood on his tongue. He splashed cold water onto his face, letting the icy liquid shock his mind into alertness. Face wet and dripping, he peered at his exhausted reflection in the mirror.

It has gone too far. The guilt-ridden burdens, the shackles of his sins tying him down, the ghosts of memories all coming back to haunt him. It has gone too far. He was too exhausted to fight them anymore, too drained to struggle and find his way. 

Saber rested his forehead against the cool surface of the mirror. 

How much longer must this go on? He was sick and tired of second-guessing himself all the time, yet he couldn't seem to break free of the fear that smothered him. He didn't want to fight on anymore; it would be so tempting to just give up. Yet there were all those poor victims to think of; all of them comatose and at the mercy to whatever the Outriders had done to them. If there was the slightest chance he could help them, he cannot not take. 

There was also the promise to Ishara, and Saber was not someone who could wilfully break a promise. 

Someone knocked at his door.

"Top Sword, you up yet?" Fireball called as he entered.

Saber straightened. Taking a deep breath, he shoved all his fears and worries back down again before leaving the bathroom. "Good morning, Fireball."       

His friend turned and smiled cheerily. "Morning to you, Saber." He looked closer at the shadows under Saber's eyes. "Rough night again?"

"Yes." Saber changed into his day clothes. "Where's Colt?"

"The cowboy woke up hungry. He made a beeline for the cafeteria." Fireball stretched and yawned. "We should join him soon. God, I need that cup of coffee. Ready to go?" 

"Let's get this over before I change my mind."

"I thought so. I spoke with Crest just now and extracted a promise from him."

"Under duress, I bet." Saber quipped wryly.

Fireball shrugged. "Why not? These CCI agents are all the same. They would do anything to fulfil a goal. I simply don't trust your well being with them. Anyway, he promised to treat you with all due consideration, not like a lab rat." A supporting hand clasped Saber's shoulder. "And we'll be there, Saber too. You won't be alone." 

Saber smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Doctor McGregor was most solemn when Saber gave his decision to him. 

"Thank you," he said simply. 

He knew he could not understand how much courage it took for Saber to allow the beast inside to wake and so he did not give shallow consolation and sympathy. Saber was grateful for that. He was even more thankful for his friends' silent support. At least if anything goes wrong, he could trust them to do the right thing. 

"So how's the procedure like?" Fireball asked.

They, with Doctor McGregor and Crest, stood in the observation booth. Two other technicians were there, to monitor Saber's vital signs throughout the procedure. A large and very thick piece of glass separated the observation booth from the operation room. The operation room was starkly lit and nearly barren save for the sophisticated piece of operating platform with the operating bed in the middle of the room. Saber would be lying on that operating bed very soon; his friends were feverishly praying that nothing would go wrong.

"We will be activating his implants in stages," McGregor explained, "starting with those that we deemed as most harmless first. From my research, it's pretty clear that Captain Rider was under the influence of not only brainwashing but his implants as well. I've devised a way that would give us complete control each and every implant we activated. This way, it would minimise the risk of losing control of the situation."   

"What about the brainwashing part?" Colt questioned.

"That is a risk we have to take. Personally, I'm confident that he won't have a total personality change. Whatever brainwashing he had underwent seemed to have lost its grip over him."

"But if he tries to hurt anybody," Crest added, "well, that's what the security features are for."

Their conversation ceased as Saber entered the operation room, led by two white-coated assistants. He had changed out of his day clothes into the hospital pyjamas and slippers provided. 

Ever since giving McGregor his consent, Saber had been maintaining a stoic silence. Much as he wanted to deny it, Saber was extremely afraid. Everything about the operation room reminded him of Zhu'cov's lab, bringing those unwanted memories closer to the surface. He said nothing as the assistant instructed him to lie on the operation bed, suppressing the urge to cringe as they placed electrodes over his body. 

"Captain Rider," McGregor's voice came over the intercom. "Are you ready sir?"

Saber took a deep bracing breath. "Let's get this over and done with, Doctor." 

"All right. Just relax and let us handle the rest."

*      *      *

       "Can't you go any faster?" April asked the shuttle pilot.

"Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm already going as fast as I can."

"It's not fast enough for me," she grumbled. "I don't like the fact that he's in CCI's hands."

Eagle gently pushed his daughter back into her chair. "Patience, April. We'll be there soon enough."

*      *      *

       "Motor implants activated," reported one of the technicians.

"The muscle relaxant should be taking effect now." McGregor leaned over the intercom mic. "Any discomforts, Captain?"

"No."

"We'll start activating the spinal-cord implants then."

Saber started when he felt _something_ in the small of his back where his tailbone was. It felt almost like a sting, not painful though, just odd. Then there was another sting higher up on his spine and another. 

"We've activated three of the spinal-cord implants," McGregor said. "How is it?"

"...Strange, like -"

****

**_Flash_**__

_He was back in the tank, immersed in the foul stinking chemical water. Needle points of fire burned down his spine, causing him to arch and writhe, trying in vain to escape the pain searing him from inside._

****

**_Flash_**__

"Saber!"

The Star Sheriffs lunged against the glass, eyes wide as Saber suddenly started convulsing on the operating bed. Their fear rose raised another notch when he saw the technicians' frantic manipulation of their consoles. McGregor was equally tense as he barked out orders to them.

"What the hell is going on, Doctor?!" Fireball yelled.

"The implants," McGregor replied tersely. "The rest of them are activating on their own."

_"What?!"_

"It's like we have accidentally set off a chain-reaction. But that's impossible! The safeguards should be preventing something like this from happening." 

Saber started screaming, a heart rendering sound of sheer pain, terror and rage.

****

**_Flash_**

_He had been screaming for a long time. With his voice, inside his mind, he didn't know. Pain was all he knew, no past, no thoughts, just pain._

****

**_Flash_**

"Colt, get down there and snap him out of it!" Fireball grabbed McGregor roughly by the shoulder. "Deactivate the implants now!"

"I'm trying to!" McGregor grabbed the intercom mic. "Put him under! Quickly!"

Fireball watched helplessly as the two assistants in the operating room scrambled to place the breathing mask over Saber's face. The Highlander suddenly heaved himself upright, tearing off the electrodes. He knocked one assistant aside with a sweep of his arm and began to throttle the other man. His face contorted with pure animalistic fury. It was exactly like when Saber had just woken up from his coma and during his fight with the Renegade-Hound on Amarado.     

A gunshot rang out. 

A spot of red appeared near Saber's shoulder. He staggered, forced to release the assistant. As the two terrified assistants fled the operating room, he glared at Colt who still aimed his blaster at him in steady hand. Grimly, Colt cocked a second round into his blaster. The cowboy didn't blink as Saber charged him with sudden swiftness.    

Blue light suddenly blazed in the operating room. 

Saber tried to stop but he was going too fast. He hit the restraining field surrounding the operating platform and was flung back. He tumbled across the cold bare floor and came to rest at the foot of the operating bed in a boneless heap. 

Crest rubbed his fist where he had slammed it against the emergency button. "I've sealed the operating platform. He's not going to get out of there that easily."

"Is he-?" Fireball dared not continue.

"No, still alive." McGregor wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Thank God."

"His implants?"

"All fully activated. Every single one of them."

Fists clutched, Fireball stared at the scene before him. Colt's blaster was still out; the cowboy wasn't about to lower his guard anytime soon. The cowboy and his blaster, and a restraining field, was all that stood between a berserk Saber and the rest of the base.  

Saber stirred, sending a ripple of tension through the observers. Colt raised his blaster higher as the Highlander slowly uncurled and pulled himself to his feet with the support of the operating bed.

Fireball grabbed the intercom mic. "Saber! Are you all right? Answer me, buddy!"

His friend turned to face him. 

Fireball went very cold when he spied the thin twisted smile, a smile so unlike the friend he knew. 

"Saber?" came the husky murmur, the Scottish burr completely absent. 

Flat blue eyes, terrifying for its utter lack of humanity, met Fireball's stunned gaze. He recoiled from that chilling malicious gaze. 

"No, not Saber. I am Death, the Pale Rider."

*      *      *

Fireball stared, his mind scrambling to make sense of the suddenly bizarre and potentially dangerous situation. He almost couldn't bring himself to believe that the man standing before him was not his friend he had known for years.

The face was the same. Save for the sudden paleness of his complexion, his physical appearance had not changed. But the behaviour...! The casual predatory poise, the utter apathy...it was wrong, all wrong! This was not Saber, his instincts screamed at him. His friend never possessed such a strong 'stench' of death, wearing it like a second skin. 

With a shaking hand, he grasped the intercom mic again. "Who are you?" he asked carefully just to make sure.

"I told you already." Death folded his arms across his chest and casually sat at the edge of the operating bed. 

"What have you done with Saber?"

The malicious smile simply widened.

Fireball clenched his fist, infuriated and shaken to the core. This, this...monster had usurped his friend's body – 

Crest suddenly snatched the intercom mic out of his hand. "I am Lieutenant Malcolm Crest of the Cavalry Command Intelligence. You are now our prisoner, Horseman. You will answer our questions or you will be punished. Don't think about trying to escape or for your comrades to come rescue -"

Death burst into laughter, plainly amused at his words.

"- You," Crest continued doggedly. "Cooperate with us and we might forego punishment."

Fireball clapped a hand over the mic. "What are you doing?" he hissed at Crest. 

Crest gave him a cool look. "Just stating our position so he would understand that we have him at a disadvantage. Speaking in terms that military people understand."

In the operating room, Death sat calmly on the operating bed as he watched the heated discussion in the observation booth. Despite his amusement seconds before, Death was quick to realise the seriousness of his situation. He maintained his impassive silence, inwardly bothered by the changes.

Discreetly, he scanned his surrounding. He was out of armour, wearing ridiculous hospital pyjamas that provided only a modicum of modesty and nothing more. The gunshot wound in his shoulder was no longer a worry, having closed and healed on its own. His weapons were gone, missing presumably, and he was trapped in a laboratory – not Zhu'cov's but a human one. All these he took in a glance and came to the immediate conclusion that he had fallen into the hands of his enemies. 

As serious as his situation might seem to be, Death wasn't that overly concerned. He could escape when he felt like it. It was easy when he remembered now how he had gotten here. And as useful as the strange memories juxtaposed with his experiences leading the Outriders were, _they_ were the real cause for worry. Death almost couldn't believe that he was..._friend_ to these humans; that he was once a human named Saber Rider and he had fought _against_ the Outriders. The feelings and solidity attached to these human memories were so real that Death could not deny their truth. But these impossible memories never surfaced during his ride with his brothers, so why now and how?

Colt was beginning to sweat. He was acutely aware that he was alone inside the operating room with possibly one of the New Frontier's most dangerous enemies and he had nothing more than just his blaster if he did try anything. He did not like the unreadable puzzle that was Death. 

Death had remained absolutely still, betraying not even the slightest twitch of a muscle. Saber, for all his reserved and quiet nature, had been easy to read once he allowed you into his circle of trusted few. But Death was a complete enigma. His long unblinking stare at the observation booth was beginning to unnerve Colt.  

"What are you looking at?" Colt couldn't help but ask.

Death finally turned. He rose to his feet and glided right to the edge of the restraining field. "I know you."

Colt fought the urge to step back. This was definitely not Saber. There was menace in every step he took, the inhuman predatory grace even more pronounced. He knew Saber had been feeling uncertain and afraid ever since he regained his memories, and if this is what he was like under the influence of the Outriders, he couldn't blame his friend at all. Hell, Colt didn't think he want to meet the rest of the Horsemen either.

Static crackled over his body as he approached the edge of the operating platform but Death paid them no heed. He regarded the cowboy intently, finally grasping the pieces of memories he was looking for.

"He never told you, did he?"

"Tell me about what?"

"About the Tranquillity Massacre."

Colt grew very cold. He stared at Death, heart hammering so much that it drowned out all other sounds. Tranquillity...this man could tell him what happened to Robin, why she died so tragically...this – Outrider could tell him what Saber couldn't bring himself to do. His blaster grip tightened. 

Death cocked his head, eyeing the troubled cowboy thoughtfully. "I could tell you. After all, you did ask."

Colt stared into those cold flat eyes, apathetic eyes completely devoid of any human warmth. He swallowed hard. This stranger wasn't really Death, he reminded himself sternly, just a mortal acting as one. This personality was an Outrider and Outriders were not known for their upright nature. 

"You will tell me about the Tranquillity Massacre in exchange for what? I won't help you to escape," he quickly warned.

"Nothing that drastic. All I want is a package wrapped in black velvet. You'll find it in Saber's room, in his drawer."

"What's in it?"

"My crown, my crest of bone."

Colt narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Just a crown, that's all? It couldn't be that simple.

Death sighed, correctly reading his expression, and started to turn away. "I thought so too."   

"You okay, Colt?" came the quiet voice. 

Colt glanced over his shoulder, startled that he hadn't heard Fireball and Crest entering the operation room. "Y-yeah, I'm fine."  

His gaze swivelled back to Death. "I think he has access to Saber's memories."

"Impossible," Crest said flatly. "The analysis we did of those implants indicated a full personality and memory override when activated. There is no way that Outrider could access your friend's memories."

"Why the hell not?" Fireball growled irritably, totally out of patience for the CCI agent. "If Saber could remember the things he did during those five years, why not vice versa? Nothing is perfect, certainly not these implants, no matter how many light-years they are ahead in development." 

"Are you going to stand there and talk or do I have to invite you over?" Death smirked as Fireball bristled. "What can I do for you, humans?"

"We have questions for you, Outrider." Crest said briskly.

       "Oh?"

       "Answer our questions and we might decide to let you live."

       "And if I don't?"

       "We will, of course, deactivate the implants and allow Mister Rider to repossess his body. That would mean that you would no longer exist."

       Death arched a fine aristocratic brow. "Pray tell me, Lieutenant Crest, how do you get the silly idea that there are two separate and distinct personalities occupying the same body?" 

       "You, Pale Rider, are nothing more than just a personality created from brainwashing and neural implants. It has been proven that a person's personality can be totally superseded by an artificial personality introduced by implants in the brain."

       For the second time in less than an hour, Death laughed.

       "Do you find this amusing?" Fireball growled.

       "Yes, I do. I am as real as your friend is – chum." 

Fireball started. That last bit was said in an almost normal tone, meaning he had sounded just like Saber complete with the familiar Scottish burr. Then it struck him that Saber's body language had returned; the palpable menace oozing from him had plummeted in intensity.

       "Do you still remember our first meeting, race-boy?" Death/Saber reminisced. "How we saved the Ramrod project from the Outriders? I knew at once that you and Colt were exactly what the team needed. There were doubts though. You were too rash, Colt was too laidback. But I believe in you and I still do."

       Fireball's skin started crawling. Those words...they were exactly the same from that time long ago, when they were first recruited. It was delivered in the exact same tone, with the exact emotions. He could almost believe it was Saber he was talking to. 

Almost. 

Death's eyes remained cold.

       "Damn," Fireball swore softly.

       Death grinned, a grin that never reached his eyes. Echoes of Saber's personality faded away in a blink of an eye and a dangerous enemy once again confronted them. "Ask your questions, human."

       "Seven months ago, we rescued ten humans from the Outriders." Crest said, nonplussed by the sudden personality shift. "We're still unable to wake them from their coma despite everything we tried. What I want to know is why and what was done to them." 

       "Ten humans in a coma..." Death took his time answering. "Ah, you must mean the _Oregon_ raid."

       "Yes," Crest had to admit.

       Death smirked. "Hn. That was a failed experiment. Those humans were meant to be Sleepers."

       "Sleepers?" Fireball frowned.

"People who infiltrated a society and lay dormant until they are ordered to destroy it from within out."

A chill ran down Fireball's spine as he realised the significance of Sleepers. "You brainwashed the people, then released them back into our society without them being the wiser."

"We called it programming. The beautiful part is they won't know what happened, or what they've become. They'll continue living their boring meaningless little lives, never suspecting a single thing until we trigger them. By then, it'll be too late. Your society would have fallen into chaos."   

Death sighed regretfully. "It was such a perfect plan." 

Fireball stared him, revulsion clear across his face.

"Why did it failed?" Crest asked.

"Sleepers' cover has to be perfect to fool even the most suspicious people. We have to make it such that no one, not even the Sleepers themselves, knew there was anything wrong with them. But it wasn't a reality. The marks left on the Sleepers were too obvious. Anyone can find it with the barest of a scan. That's why it was a failure. Those ten were the initial batch. When the experiment was aborted, we scheduled them for recycling."

"Recycling?" Colt repeated. He couldn't help recalling what Saber had told him back on Planet Amarado, when they were sneaking into Zhu'cov's lab. Most of the lab creatures in that place had been scheduled for 'recycling'. "They're humans, not garbage."

"They are useless now. Isn't that what garbage is?"  

"They aren't garbage," Fireball retorted heatedly. "You'll see, when they wake up." 

Death's smirk was positively malicious. "They will never wake up."

"What do you mean?"

"They're vegetables, human. The experiment destroyed their minds. They will spend the rest of their lives in that shell of a body, unable to react to anything." Death grinned. "How unfortunate. To have risked your friend's sanity all for naught."

"You-you..." Fireball seethed.

"What?" Death stood real close to them, separated only by the restraining field, bringing his face level to Fireball's. "Monster? Demon? Which one is it, race-boy?"

"The little girl was innocent!"

"Poor little Maggie." Death licked his lips, a spark of hunger gleaming in his eyes. "Her death will taste so sweet."

Enraged, Fireball punched out at that maliciously grinning face. Blue sparks flew as his fist bounced off the restraining field. 

Death simply laughed, a cutting mocking laugh. He stepped back from the restraining field and abruptly whirled to face the observation booth.

"Hello, father. It's been a long time."

_What? _

Fireball jerked around, eyes widening when he saw April and Eagle standing in the observation booth with horrified expressions. There was someone else, face hidden beneath a cowboy hat, but Fireball's attention was fastened on the last individual leaning heavily against the mysterious person for support. 

Senator Edward Rider of the Earth System was staring at his son with the most anguished and stricken expression Fireball had ever seen. 

"What's wrong, _father_?" Death grinned manically. "Aren't you overjoyed at seeing your _son_ again? Safe and sound?"

"Shut up!" Fireball shouted over the ugly sound of Death laughing. "April! Get them out of there now!"  

Tossing Death a look of barely-concealed fury, Fireball stormed out the operating room. Crest followed him out, but Colt was slower. He gave the still laughing Death one long unreadable look before leaving as well.  

Finally, Death was alone. It was a long time before he stopped laughing.

"Are you ready to die? Saber?" he whispered, still grinning maniacally. "Does it pain you to see your friends treating you with hatred and fear, and knowing you can't never go back again?"

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

The soft question, spoken in a feminine voice, drifted to his ears. Death stiffened, incredulous that someone was able to sneak up on him without him knowing. 

A petite slim person stood before him dressed in a simple white shirt, jeans and sturdy boots, all covered by a long tailored brown coat. The broad brim of the cowboy hat hid her face from view. 

Death's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

She calmly took off the hat. Waist-long ear-bangs of pale purple hair tumbled forward, contrasting sharply against her short straight hair, and framed a gentle face dominated by large violet eyes. Willow-thin and delicate, Death nevertheless sensed a steely will beneath the fragile beauty.

"The Zalrian." Instinctively, Death slammed up his mental shields.

"I see you still remember me. And my gift."

"Surprised that I know how to keep you out, but not Saber?"

"A little."

"You should have gone straight back home, Ishara. How does it feel to watch your friend turned into a monster? I fancy Saber would be shattered and ashamed that you saw his downfall."

"You aren't a monster."

Death arched a brow, somewhat taken aback by her strange reply. "Oh?"

Ishara simply looked at him, with eyes fathomless and inscrutable. Those knowing eyes made Death uneasy. It was eyes that saw more than they should.

This girl was dangerous, Death quickly realised. A telepath who was well versed in psychoanalysis and tactics. Even with his mental shields blocking her, she could still outwit him by the _human_ way. 

"Do you want to know what I see?" Ishara finally said.

"What do you see?"

"I see a man warring with his darkness."

"Oh?" Death smiled and pointed to his temple. "Did you get all that from digging through here? Be careful, Ishara. You might get burnt."

Ishara took a step closer to the restraining field. The compelling violet gaze effortlessly caught his and for the life of him, Death couldn't look away, caught off guard by the sudden welling of emotions from his heart, the yearning and...tenderness so intense that it made his chest hurts. 

Suddenly, the verbal sparring was no longer entertaining. 

"You can't kill yourself that easily."

Death tensed at her odd words.

"There's only one way to win and that is to accept every bit of yourself."

"Get out," Death hissed. "Get out of my sight, mind witch."

Ishara gazed at him a moment longer, then left as quietly as she had entered.

Death watched her leave, fighting to calm the churning mess of conflicting emotions within him. Impossible as it may seem, the little telepath had somehow spoken to the both of _him_ and that thoroughly unnerved him.

* * *

**Author's Notes Insertion:**

Whew! Finally, I got this chapter done. It hadn't been easy because Death is as complicated as Saber is. Not only he's got to be different and bad enough to upset the Star Sheriffs, yet at the same time, he's got to retain some characteristics of Saber. I chose to make that similarity in the form of verbal sparring and mind games. Why? I've always thought that Saber would be very good at words and I believed, if need to be, he could play equally good mind games with the best. He just seemed that type. To offset that similarity, I made Death to be a cold psychotic person wrapped in layers of cruelty and malice. He doesn't really care about the damages he inflicted on the Star Sheriffs' emotional states. Playing with their minds is just a game to him, until Ishara turned the tables on him. Now that was a difficult conversation to write. Short as it may be, but conveying the sense of talking to both sides of the same person at the same time was hard.

Have you ever visualise death grinning? Just think of a grinning skull and you'll get the picture. The effect, at least in my mind, is grotesque and absolutely morbid.

* * *

Six – What Will You Do To Find The Truth?

Solemn silence blanketed Doctor McGregor's office in a thick suffocating layer. No one wanted to speak; all of them still trying to come to terms with what they have witnessed in the operating room. They did not quite know how to console the stricken Senator. 

The middle-aged man sat on the couch, head and shoulders bowed in grief. He wore plain Western attire of sober colours; the only hint of his wealth laid in the rich material they were made of. Resting beside his legs was a long cloth-wrapped object. Despite his greying black hair and careworn face, he carried himself with the air of nobility of those born to land and old money. But right now Senator Edward Rider of the Earth System was simply a father heartsick with worry for his son.

Eagle sat down beside him and laid a supporting hand on his shoulder. He could understand the man's pain; he was a father too. "I'm sorry, Edward. If I had known, I wouldn't have brought you here." 

"What happened to my boy? What is that monster in him?"

Eagle sighed tiredly. "It's a long story. Fireball."

Fireball came forward. He pulled up a chair beside senior Rider. "I can tell you, Senator, but it's not very nice."

"Please tell me, Captain."

*      *      *

       Senator Rider sank heavily onto the couch, trying to digest the awful story he had just been told. The Star Sheriffs had taken turns with the report and somewhere during April's turn, Ishara had quietly joined them. 

"My God," Senator Rider spoke at last. The news had deeply shaken him and he seemed to have visibly aged. "It's a miracle he even pulled through it alive."

"Saber has always been strong, Senator." April said gently. "He'll never give up a fight."

"But can we still get him back? Doctor?"

McGregor hesitated. "To be frank, Senator Rider, I'm not sure. When we started the operation, it was on the basis that I have control over his implants and therefore able to control the Death's personality to some degree. But the implants proved to be more sophisticated than I had originally believed. I don't know if I can deactivate those implants again." 

"But why did you do it in the first place?" Senator Rider demanded upset.

"Because we needed answers, Senator, to cure our ten comatose patients." Crest replied. "And he did give his consent."   

"So our friend Saber is gone?" Colt questioned. "And all we're left with is this...this Outrider personality."

"No."

       They all turned to look at Ishara. The girl had been so quiet that they had forgotten about her presence. 

Crest's eyes widened when he saw her.    "You're a Zalrian." 

"Healer Ishara Lilac, House of Tairei."   

"Healer Ishara is a guest of mine," Eagle spoke up.

"Admiral," Crest began somewhat stiffly. "I must protest against this. This is one of Cavalry Command's most secretive bases. I'd allow Senator Rider and your entry, but I cannot possibly admit a Zalrian onto the base."

"Your protest is duly noted, Lieutenant. The situation that calls for such a gathering is unusual and has no precedent. Healer Ishara came because she was concerned about Saber's health. As such, she has as much as right to be here as I am. Before I proceed, I would order your silence on Healer Ishara's presence here on Yuma."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The New Frontier-Zalrus Summit will not be due in a month's time. That will be our first official contact with each other. Any other meeting before that has to be hushed and discreet to avoid potential political complications. I trust each and everyone here to keep the vow of silence on this?"

       "Yes, sir." The Star Sheriffs agreed without hesitation. 

"I understand, sir." Crest replied though it was clear that he still did not like the situation.

"How do you manage to get the both of them here, sir?" Fireball asked Eagle.

       "Timing and coincidence. I was already expecting Edward when I received a coded message from one of my sources. That's how I knew she was coming, so I arranged to pick them up at the same time."

       "I'm glad you came, Ishara." 

       "So am I."

       Colt doffed his hat. "Welcome to Yuma, little lady. Although I'd prefer meeting under better circumstances."

"I know what you mean." A slight frown touched her brows when she looked at the cowboy.

"Ishara, about my son?" Senator Rider asked.

       "Saber's personality still exists. He's just not in charge."

       "So we can get him back. We just have to find a way to deactivate the implants."

       "I'm not sure if that will work."

       "Meaning?"

       "Death isn't quite completely the artificial personality you think he is. He's real, as real as Saber is. I've been thinking: why did the Outriders choose him, a human to lead them? Why not one of their own? Zhu'cov gave me the answer. He told Saber back on Amarado that he already displayed an aptitude for killing and destruction even when he was a Star Sheriff. Part of Death's personality stems from this darkness in Saber. I gathered that Saber is a man who valued control, especially over the darkness in him. My guess is the Outriders broke that control and warped his darkness to their agenda by implant-reinforcement and brainwashing."

       "So Saber's personality is basically drowning under all that darkness," Fireball said slowly.

       "Can't we get rid of Death once and for all?" Senator Rider asked anxiously.

       Ishara shook her head. "Death has always been there, sleeping inside Saber. You woke Death up by triggering the implants. If you deactivate the implants again, Death won't disappear. There will always be the risk of him reappearing and it will get harder to deal with." 

       "So what's the solution then?"

       "He must regain control over the darkness, not just suppress it. Or we'll really lose him to his own destruction."

       Senator Rider's heart sank. "He will kill himself?"

       "In a last desperate bid to retain his sanity."   

*      *      *

       Colt stepped out of the elevator and took a deep breath of the dry acrid air of the desert. He was still surprised to see that it was just noon. The morning had felt like an entire day to him. The cowboy pulled his hat low over his eyes and he aimlessly strolled about the base surface, thoughts miles away. 

Saber knew the reason behind the Tranquillity Massacre. The cowboy could see it in his eyes every time Saber looked at him. So much guilt and pain that Colt almost didn't want to push any further, but the memory of Robin would not allow him. He _must_ know; he _has to_ know.

Colt stopped in mid-step and looked down at his hands. 

Just a crown, nothing more. A vanity symbol. Really, it was a very small price to pay. It was that small price that rankled him. Surely it can't be that simple. But what if it is? Can he afford to take the risk that Death might be making use of him? Saber did promised to tell him, but what if he failed to survive this mess? Who will tell him then?

His hands clenched.

For Robin, he would do anything. 

His mind made up, Colt retraced his steps back to the elevator. The others are in the middle of lunch; now was the perfect time to find out what Saber knows.

*      *      *

       Lunch was a sombre affair. The Star Sheriffs, Eagle, Senator Rider and Ishara occupied a table in the far corner, but none of them touched their meals. In the light of the grim situation, they couldn't find the appetite to enjoy their food. 

"Isn't Colt going to join us?" April asked, not seeing the cowboy anywhere.

"He said he needs to get some fresh air," Fireball said. His expression darkened. "Not that I want to stop him. He needs some time alone."

"Is he all right?" Ishara asked hesitatingly. "When I spoke to him just now, I sensed a great deal of turmoil in him."

"The CCI knew about the Horsemen since three years ago."

They stared at him.

"You're sure about this, Captain?" Eagle questioned.

"Aye, sir. Crest told us himself. It absolutely set Colt off."

"They did nothing?" Senator Rider asked flatly.

Fireball rubbed his temples, trying to ease his pounding head. "I'm afraid so."

       "Mary and I waited five years for our son's return. My lad's been in hell for five years. My beloved worried herself ill and she's still very frail." Senator Rider clutched the cloth-wrapped object; the whitening of his knuckles the only visible sign of his growing fury. "Admiral Eagle, when I bring this to the Council's attention, heads are going to roll."    

       "I'll help you, Senator Rider." The hard glint in Eagle's eyes left no doubt of his sentiments as well. 

"What were those idiots thinking?" April muttered. "Things that threaten the New Frontier's security cannot be kept secret."

       "Healer, will my son truly recover?"

       Ishara's gaze softened, her heart aching for the father's pain and sorrow. "I really can't say, Senator. Everyone has a dark side; it's what balances the goodness in us. My people have a saying – the brighter the light, the darker the shadows – and Saber's light is very bright. He will only be whole if he could reconcile both sides of his nature."

       "Isn't there any thing we can do to help?"

       "Support, encouragement and just be there for him. But in the end, this is a fight he has to win on his own."

*      *      *

       Retrieving the crown was easy. There was no one about and the lock on Saber's room was ridiculously simple to pick. He took a peek at the item and was revolted at the sight of the skeletal crest carved from bone. 

The workmanship was exquisite, morbid and yet disturbingly elegant at the same time. 

Tucking it away in his jacket, Colt furtively made his way to the operating room. He steeled himself when he saw the guards outside the operating room. They moved to block his way. Without missing a beat, Colt flashed his EBU.

"Star Sheriff, gentlemen. I have access to see the prisoner." 

They exchanged one look before stepping aside for him. 

Colt paused just beyond the threshold as the door slid close behind him. From where he was, he could see that the observation booth was empty. The restraining field still shimmered in existence and Death sat complacently within its boundary. 

Death smirked when he saw the cowboy. "Have a change of heart, cowboy?"

Colt did not say anything as he crossed the operating room. From within his jacket, he took out the package and showed it to him.

"You brought it."

"Tell me what I want to know first, then I'll give it to you."

"Do you think I'm a fool? What will make you give me my crown once I've told you? Give me my crown, cowboy, and I'll tell you. After all, I'm not going anywhere."

Colt hesitated. Then slowly, he mounted the steps to the operating platform and dropped the item into the small access drawer, the only gap in the restraining field. On the other side of the restraining field, Death took the package from the drawer and unwrapped it. He smiled when he saw the skeletal crest of bone gleaming palely in the blue glow of the restraining field. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he muttered, tracing one horned edge with a gentle finger.

Colt fought the shiver of revulsion. 

Death put the crown aside. "What do you want to know?"

"Who razed Tranquillity?"

"War and her raiding party."

"Were you there?"

"Yes."

"You took part in the raid?" 

"I was an observer on Conqueror's orders. That doesn't mean I didn't have fun."

"Why?" 

"War hated the name."

Time froze. Colt stared at him, unable to believe his ears.

"What?" the word came out on a bare whisper. 

"The name 'Tranquillity' is anathema to her nature. That's why she razed the settlement." Death walked right up to the restraining field, a cruel smile twisting his lips. 

"I killed her, you know."

That hit Colt like a punch in the stomach. He stared at the smirking cruel face, blood thundering in his ears.

"No..." it came out choked.

"Her name was Robin, right? She was your sweetheart, the one and only love of your life. If I had known then, I'd have made her death a lingering painful one. As it is, her fear and helplessness still made her death very sweet."

A blaster shot resounded in the operating room. The bullet ricocheted off the restraining field to bury itself in the nearest equipment.

Death's cruel smile didn't change a bit, staring steadily at Colt beyond the blaster shaking in his hand.   

Colt didn't remember firing his blaster. His vision was misted with red and there was an unbearable pressure squeezing his chest, forcing him to gasp for breath or let it erupt. The blaster in his hand shook even more; his entire body racked with tremors. 

"Damn you."

"If you want to shoot me, lower the restraining field and go ahead. Only problem is: can you kill me without killing your friend?"

Colt couldn't take it anymore. Stumbling off the operating platform, he fled the operating room, pushing past the guards who were alerted by the blaster shot. He barely made it back to his room before his knees gave way and he slumped down onto the floor in a heap. Hot tears trickled down his cheeks unnoticed as he buried his head in his hands.

_Robin! Your murderer is my best friend!!! Did you know that when you die?!  _

*      *      *

Death waited until the guards once again left the operating room before taking out his skeletal crest of bone. He knew the Star Sheriffs would be alerted to what had transpired just now and it wouldn't be long before they come to interrogate him as well. Unwrapping the skeletal crest, he pressed at a section with a long finger. A small panel slid open at the pressure, allowing a small device to fall out onto his palm. He placed it inside his ear and activated it. 

There was a buzz of static before he heard a tinny voice. "My Lord."

Death smiled.

*      *      *

       April knelt down in front of Colt who was huddled in the corner of his room, curled into a tight ball of profound misery. The wild rage and grief smouldering in the depths of his eyes worried her; the last time she had seen Colt in such a state was almost three years ago.

"Colt? What happened?" she asked tentatively. No point asking if he was all right when he was clearly not.

"He killed her." The words were said in a monotonous voice.

There was only one 'her' she knew Colt would refer to. "Who killed her?"

"Death." April didn't want to believe him, but Colt's stony expression twisted, grief and disbelief plain for all to see. "He murdered her in cold blood."

"Oh God." April covered her mouth with trembling hands. "He told you that?"

"Yes. He was happy he told me. He took pleasure in killing her!"  

A strangled growl escaped Colt. 

"I'm going to kill him. I've spent all these years looking for Robin's murderer. I won't let him get away with it."

"But this is Saber you're talking about. You can't just kill him."

"Is he even there at all? Have you forgot what he told us on Amarado? He confessed that he was witness to what Death did. He knew."

"But he couldn't stop himself," April argued. 

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

"He was under the Outrider's control!" Exasperated and more than a little frightened, April clasped Colt's face in her hands, forcing the cowboy to look at her. "We've known Saber for so many years. Don't you think that if there were a chance he could have stopped it from happening, he would have taken it?"

"You forgot what they all said. Death was partly derived from the darkness in him."

"That proved nothing."

"It proved something! It showed us that he could hurt and even kill those close to him."

April stared at him. "I can't believe you would even think that. Are you so hell bent on vengeance that you would destroy your friendship with him?"

"He destroyed it first!" Colt snarled. "He destroyed it when he murdered Robin!"

"He was under their control!" April yelled.

Stony terse silence fell.

"I don't care what you say, April. Death must die."

"Are you willing to kill your own friend to accomplish that?" 

*      *      *

       Fireball and Ishara stood outside the operating platform turned prison cell. Death, seated cross-legged on the operating bed, returned their gazes calmly.

"I want to know what exactly you told Colt," Fireball demanded.

"Oh, nothing much, just about the Tranquillity Massacre."

Ishara frowned. "Tranquillity Massacre? What is that?"

Death shot her a malicious look. "Take a look, mind witch." 

Ishara blanched when Death threw a series of mental images to her. She nearly vomited when she 'saw' the carnage wrought upon the helpless settlement. Ishara stared at him with sudden comprehension. _So that's what been eating him._

"What about the Tranquillity Massacre?" Fireball pressed. "What did you do to him?"  

Death walked right up to the restraining field. "What was the worst thing that happened to Colt?"

Fireball's face paled. "You didn't..."

"Her death tasted so sweet."

"Liar."

Death tipped his head in Ishara's direction. "Ask her."

Fireball glanced at the Zalrian. The stricken look on her face was enough to convince him. "Shit..."

The explosion that thundered through the base was violent enough to knock everyone in the operating room off their feet. Immediately the alarm klaxon went off, painting the room in vivid red light. 

"You all right?" Fireball asked Ishara as he picked himself off the floor.   

"What was that?" 

"Your guess is as good as mine." 

The quick pattering of footsteps reached his ears. Fireball looked up to see Crest running towards them with a small carrier bag in hand.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?!"

Ishara jumped, her startled gaze whipping around to fix on Crest. 

"Lieutenant Crest -"

[Fireball! He's being controlled!]

Her warning a second too came too late. Crest whipped out a taser and shot her. The Zalrian telepath went down in an unconscious heap.

There was no time to do anything but to run for cover. Fireball scrambled off the operating platform in double quick time and dove behind the machines in the operating room as Crest kept firing after him. He scurried from cover to cover, ducking from the resulting spray of sparks and debris. He briefly wondered why the guards did not investigate; surely they were making enough noise to alert them.

"_Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing?!_"

"Haven't you figure it out by now, race-boy?" Death called out.

       Fireball peeked out from his hiding place, took one look and cursed long and fluid in his native language. The strange wooden blankness the CCI agent wore on his face was unfamiliar but he was not completely clueless as to what it hinted at.

       "You said the Sleeper project was a failure!" he yelled from his cover.

       "And you believed me?"

       The last taser blast came too close for comfort. Feeling a warm trickle of blood running down his temple, Fireball decided to make a break for it. He lunged from his cover, sprinting madly for the doors with a series of taser blasts nipped at his heels. Bursting into the corridor, he suddenly tripped over something. 

       A loud curse involuntarily left him as he stared at the dismembered head just inches away from his face. Fireball scrambled back, glancing around quickly. Both guards were dead, torn into pieces. Their blood splattered the floor and coated his hands. He heard a strange whipping sound and before he knew it, several grappling coils wrapped about him, pinning his arms and legs together and coiled snugly around his neck. 

       The grappling coils pulled back and Fireball couldn't help but follow or risk strangulation. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the massive bulk of a Renegade-Hound. 

       Crest emerged from the operating room; taser still in hand and the limp form of Ishara slung over one shoulder. 

       Right behind him, Death loomed out of the darkness – free.

* * *

**Seven – Breakout! The Fight Begins**

Eagle was in the control room when the explosion went off. He grabbed the nearest chair for balance as the floor shook beneath his feet. The alarm klaxon began screaming.

"Report!"

"Explosion in the power generator room, sir!" 

"Power failure occurring all over the base, sir! South wing down, west wing down -" 

"Fire in the power generator room, sir, and it's spreading."

"Send the fire-fighting team down there at once." Eagle walked over to the consoles, eyeing the flashing screens. "Seal off the generator room and evacuate the section."

"Yes, sir!"

"Status report."

"Communication system is down, defence system is down. Rangefinders, sensor arrays, everything are inoperative. We're completely blind and sitting ducks, sir, if anyone attacks."

"Admiral Eagle!"

Eagle turned. "What is it?"

"I can't be sure but it looked like the explosion was the result of a bomb."

"A bomb?" Eagle's mind worked furiously. A bomb was set off, smuggled in by someone who knew the base very well. Because of the secretive nature of the base, he had no doubt that one of the saboteurs was one of their own people. All these destruction could only mean one thing. "Can you get the communication system to work again?"

"Trying, sir. There, got it. One channel open and I'm not sure how long I can keep it open."

Eagle wasted no time. "Eagle to April."

At the other end of the base, April and Colt were running down the corridor, their argument interrupted by the explosion. 

"April here. Daddy, what happened?"

"Sabotage," Eagle said succinctly. "I'm trying to keep things under control. I need you and the guys to hustle over to Saber's location at once."

"Yes, sir." April closed the channel. "I don't believe this. Who would want to sabotage us?"

Colt didn't answer. He simply poured on more speed. Panic sat in his stomach like a cold hard lump. He had been a fool. The crown was the key to this mess and he had handed it over without so much as wondering how Saber managed to get his hands on it. 

_I should have known._ _The price can't be that small._

*      *      *

Death stood before Fireball wrapped in an ashen-hued cloak. The hood was thrown back. A skeletal crest of bone crowned his brows, fitting over his face and head and gleamed palely under the light. From within the eyeholes in that mask-like helm, flat blue eyes glittered with an unholy light. 

Fireball froze, seized by a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.

All the while he had thought of Death as just an unwanted personality in Saber's body. It was easy, when his friend was restrained and wore just common hospital pyjamas. He had never saw Death in action, only heard them from Saber's descriptions. Seeing him now, freed and so obviously in control brought home the fact that Death was most definitely real and very dangerous. 

"Those ten Sleepers you rescued were a failed batch," Death told Fireball casually, as though their conversation was never interrupted. "Crest is one of the countless successful ones. Ironic, isn't it? He's the last person I expect to be a Sleeper." 

"You're not going to get away with this." 

"On the contrary, I planned to do just that and you're coming with me." 

Death gestured imperiously to Crest and barked something in an alien language. Obediently, Crest handed the unconscious Ishara over to the Renegade-Hound. Fireball winced as the grappling coils lifted, rising him off the ground. He went limp, trying not to cut off his air supply.

"Take us to the surface," Death ordered Crest.

Another explosion rocked through the base. Fireball winced as he swung slightly from the Renegade-Hound's grip, the grappling coils tightening even more about his neck. There was nothing he could do as they moved swiftly through the corridors, heading for the surface. The power in the grappling coils prevented him from even putting up a brief struggle.

Fireball wondered frantically why no one came to stop them. Surely Death was dangerous enough an enemy to warrant security's attention. 

"Hold it right there!" 

His heart leapt when he heard the familiar voice. Twisting his head as best as he could, he spotted Colt and April blocking their way and aiming their blasters straight at Death.

"Take one step further and we will shoot," April warned.

"Oh?" 

Death barked a command in the alien language. Docilely, Crest raised his taser and placed it against his own forehead. Despite it being a stun weapon, firing it at point-blank range was still certain death.

"Tell me, Star Sheriffs. How willing are you to sacrifice these three helpless souls?"

"Shoot him!" Fireball gasped out. 

"Do that and he dies," Death countered.

"Just shoot him! Stop him before he hurts anyone else!"

Mouth pressed into a grim line, Colt took aim and fired. His aim was true; he knew the blaster shot would hit Death directly in the chest. However he did not anticipate Crest throwing himself into the blaster shot's path. 

Before their horrified eyes, the Sleeper collapsed, a bloody hole in his chest. Crest lifted his head weakly. Pain-filled brown eyes met theirs, confused and terrified, horrifically aware that he was dying and not knowing why or how. Then he was still, glassy-eyed and blank.

Pale-faced, April clamped a hand over Colt's blaster and forced the muzzle to the ground. She lowered her own blaster as well. 

"You have free passage," she said grimly. "Just don't hurt the rest of them."

Without taking her eyes off them, she stepped out of the way, pulling Colt along with her. All of her attention, every fibre in her body, was fixed on Fireball pinioned within the Renegade-Hound's grappling coils. Even as Death's party advanced, forcing them to give way, she never removed her gaze. Her mind raced frantically, trying to find some ways to extricate themselves from this situation. But it was nearly impossible for her to concentrate; she had never felt so helpless before in her whole life. 

From the corner of her eyes, she spied Cavalry Command soldiers running towards them. Hastily she threw up a hand. "Stop!"

The soldiers skidded to a halt.

"Stop where you are and lower your weapons!" she yelled. "He has hostages!"

They hesitated.

"That is an order! Lower your weapons and do not advance!"

Reluctantly, the soldiers did as they were ordered. 

April and Colt watched in helpless frustration as Death boarded the emergency elevator with his hostages. The minute the elevator slid close, they rushed for the second lift. 

The ride was short, but it felt like forever to them.

When they reached the surface, they were just in time to see a small fast ship hovering above the ground, waiting for Death. The Star Sheriffs immediately sprinted over, desperately trying to get to Death before he could escape with his hostages.

From afar, April spied a new figure darting out from another elevator shaft and running towards Death. She glimpsed the flash of sunlight off a metal blade and realised at once who it was.

"Senator! No!"

There was a burst of pale glowing light as Death spun round and blocked the attack with his energy blade. A screech that set the teeth on the edge pierced the air.  

April half-expected the palely glowing blade to cut through the metal sword like butter but amazingly enough, the cavalry sabre held fast. Belatedly she remembered that the sword Senator Rider was wielding belonged to Saber and it was made of a special type of metal that allowed it to cut through almost virtually anything. 

Father and son stared across the crossed blades of their swords, pitting strengths and wills against each other. 

"I missed sparring with you, father." 

"I will not let you take my son away from me again," Senator Rider said through clenched teeth. With a shove, he pushed Death away and assumed a ready stance. "The only way you're going to escape is over my dead body."

Death grinned as he raised the tip of his energy blade. "Very well, father."

_       Ishara frantically searched the darkness, feeling time slipping through her fingers. _

_Somewhere, someone was screaming. Yelling, pleading desperately for someone to stop and in the darkness she heard the sounds of someone struggling against his bonds._

The screeches of metal against energy resounded through the air as the two men battled fiercely. Pale glowing blade and silver sword locked and came apart, slicing through the air in a fast and furious dance of grace and deadliness. Death launched a series of lightning attacks, parried by an equally fast Senator who sometimes strikes out his own counter-attacks.

The battle was so quick and fluid that both April and Colt had trouble following. 

Just as suddenly as it had began, the exchange ended as Death's foot swept up and kicked Senator Rider in the stomach. Senator Rider stumbled and fell heavily to the ground, freezing when he saw the energy blade falling towards him in a killing downward arch.

The energy blade came to an abrupt halt barely an inch away from his face. 

Senator Rider stared up at the lethal edge of the energy blade, then looked past it. Death's face was eerily blank. For a disjointed moment, Senator Rider sensed the internal struggle within his son. 

"Saber..."

It was the wrong move. 

Death snapped back to awareness again, wild anger flashing in flat blue eyes. Swinging the energy blade away, he kicked Senator Rider in the side and scooped up the cavalry sabre from the elder man's loose grip.

"I'll take this with me," he told the wheezing senator. "Just so you will always remember the fate of your son."

Death turned away, striding across the ground to the ship, ignoring the Star Sheriffs as they ran to the injured senator's side. In a matter of minutes, he was on board together with the Renegade-Hound and his hostages.

"Come back here, damn it!" April ran towards the ship even as it rose into the sky. "Come back here with Fireball!"

She stared in helpless fury after the vanishing ship.

"_SHINJI!_"

*      *      *

       "Master!"

On board the ship, Death turned just in time to catch an armful of joyous Scythe. Laughing, Scythe bestowed wet licks to any exposed areas of skin Scythe could find. He couldn't help but respond to Scythe's exuberant greeting, embracing the diminutive form and nipping the tender skin of Scythe's wrist. 

Death detached himself from the happy Scythe. "Later, little one. We're not out of danger yet." He turned his attention to Fireball. 

The Star Sheriff stared right back, defiant and unafraid. "Turn back and surrender yourself," Fireball said. "It's still not too late."

From behind Death, Scythe hissed angrily.

"It is already too late. Five years to be exact. Throw them into the brig," he ordered the Renegade-Hound. 

Blue eyes glittered maliciously. 

"The Lord Conqueror will be pleased with my prize."

* * *

**To Be Continued in 'Redemption'**


	3. Side Story 2 The Tranquillity Massacre

Name: Androgene (formerly known as Cyberoid13)

Website: 

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: The Tranquillity Massacre (side story 2)

Summary: the title says it all

Date of completion: 10 Nov 2001 

Category: Drama, angst, violence, gore and blood

Rating: NC-17 

Author's notes: 

This is a filler fiction, to wrap up the 'what happened to Robin?' question. I wrote this simultaneously with 'Reconciliation'. You could either read this before or after reading 'Reconciliation'. When I find a suitable spot in the main story, I will also place a marker there so as to prompt you to read this first. 

As a side story, the length of it should be kept short. Yet I hope I have placed enough emotions and drama in here to impact the reader with the tragedy that had struck Colt.  

Disclaimer: 

All 'Saber Rider and Star Sheriffs' characters belonged to World Event Production. I make no money from them and I do not own them. 

* * *

****

~ The Tranquillity Massacre  ~

_(side story 2)_

_

* * *

_

       It was a day like any other days in the sleepy and peaceful community of Tranquillity.

Robin pushed open the window of her classroom, smiling happily at the sound of laughing children on their way to school.

"Good morning, Robin." 

She turned her cheerful smile to the passing gardener. "Morning to you, Robert. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. The sky is clear and so blue." Robert took a deep breath. "It's gonna to be a good day."

The gardener eyed the cheery schoolteacher with a twinkle in his eyes. "You seem especially happy today, Robin."

"Do I?" 

"Isn't your cowboy coming for a visit today?"

Robin's dreamy smile answered his question. 

"Ah, young love." Robert sighed. "I can still remember the days when I courted my wife like it was yesterday. Where did all the time go? Now I'm just an old bag of bones."

"You're not that old, Robert."

"I'm old enough to be your grandfather, girl." The gardener walked up to her. "Listen to me, Robin, that cowboy of yours is a good man. He'll make a wonderful father someday. So don't let him slip through your fingers, do you understand?"

"I understand, Robert. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Robin." The gardener plopped his hat back on. "Well, got to get going. See you later, Robin."

*      *      *

"One hundred and one…one hundred and two, and the pretty schoolteacher make one hundred and three. Not bad for a small community." She lowered her scopes. "Living in a box canyon...bad news for them, good news for me."

War tossed the scopes to one of her underlings. "Saddle up, soldiers."

"What about Death, my Lord?"

"We're not waiting for him," War replied curtly as she mounted her red mecha warhorse. 

From head to toes, she was clad in blood-red armour that had seen numerous battles. The long thick braid of equally crimson-red hair was the only indication of her sex. Her energy blade blazed into life, a burning crimson red casting a bloody glow onto the ground. Beneath her full-face helm, she licked her lips in anticipation. 

"If he misses the fun, it's his problem."

"I'm just here to observe, brother." 

War turned as Death rode up to her raiding party. Seated atop of his pale vicious horse, and shrouded completely in a corpse-hued cloak with its hood raised, Death cuts an enigmatic and foreboding figure. He was the exact opposite of her nature. While War's violent passions rages hot, Death's run cold like a blizzard. 

Death brought no raiding party with him, only his living scythe and two of his Renegade-Hounds.  

Death gazed down at the unsuspecting community. "That is my order."

"I resent your presence, Death. This is my raid."

"Conqueror has his reasons for wanting me here. It has nothing to do with you."

"What reasons?"

"Conqueror keeps his own counsel, brother. You know that as well as I do." 

In a flash, her energy blade was aimed straight at his chest. Death gazed at her evenly, unfazed by the glowing crimson blade. Behind him, Scythe stiffened, all too ready to attack War. 

"He's just toying with you – human." The Red Horseman's words were deliberately phrased to hurt. "One day, he'll grow tired of you and he'll find a more worthy replacement."

Death smiled, a thin heartless smile that made War pause. "If that day ever comes to be, I'll still do what I do best."

"Just as long as you can slake your thirst, huh?" Beneath her own helm, a slow smile curved War's lips. She chuckled and lowered her energy blade. "I pity those who stand in your way." 

War turned back to the settlement. "This will be a quick one."

"Leave some for me. Or Scythe won't be happy."

"You spoil your little weapon." Scythe hissed at that insult. But War took no notice, her mind fully focused on the bloody task ahead. Beneath her helm, she bared her fangs in a bloodthirsty grin. 

"It's going to be a good day."

*      *      *

Death watched as War and her raiding party swept through the community, crushing everything in their path. Screams of terror were drowned by the savage attacks of the raiding party. Fires broke out and rapidly spread through the community; the burning stench mingled with that of blood.

Just ahead, he could see War laughing as she cleaved a helpless human into halves with her energy blade. War flashed her energy blade high in the air, her triumphant cry echoing through the burning community. 

Behind him, Scythe squirmed restlessly in Scythe's seat. The smell of carnage was getting to Scythe. "Master…"

"Patience." 

War rode up to Death. He didn't have to see her face to sense the euphoric high she was on. "Left some for you as you wanted, brother. How will you sentence them?"

Death dismounted. With Scythe at his side, he headed for the schoolhouse. Somewhere deep inside him, distant and very faint, there was a twinge of deja vu. Absently he wondered why the building seemed so familiar to him, even as he unerringly tracking the whimpering sounds of fear to one of the classrooms. 

He paused at the doorway when he spied the blond female schoolteacher armed with a rifle. Cowering behind her were five young children, whimpering and crying. The schoolteacher brandished the weapon at him. 

"Stay back or I'll shoot," she warned bravely despite her obvious fear. 

Again the twinge of familiarity touched Death, irritating him further.

"Run, Robin!" 

Death whirled and ducked, just as a rifle went off behind him. His quick reflexes saved him from injury but the bullet grazed the side of his hood, knocking the cloth away from his head. With a howl of fury, Scythe pounced onto the shooter, tearing into the hapless human apart with Scythe's bare hands.

"Robert!" the schoolteacher screamed. She turned stricken eyes to the invader and froze. 

Death ignored the screaming human being savaged by Scythe behind him. He approached the schoolteacher, his energy blade glowing with a pale cold light. 

Robin cowered back, the rifle clattering from nerveless fingers. She stared in helpless fear at the approaching raider, looking upon the face of her enemy for the first time. As she stared at that face half-concealed beneath the skeletal crest of bone, the most insane thought suddenly occurred to her. 

"You!" she blurted out in sudden recognition. "I...know you!"

Death grinned. "Everyone knows Death."

The pale glowing rose.

The classroom suddenly fell silent. 

Death sheathed his energy blade, shuddering as the brief spasms of pleasure thrilled through him. For a long moment, he stared at the pile of bodies at his feet, wondering why these particular deaths brought him only physical pleasure but no joy. 

With slow measured steps, Death left the classroom, pausing briefly at the doorway to give the dead bodies one last thoughtful look. Then he was gone in a swirl of his robes, the hood pulled low over his face once more. 

Scythe was promptly by his side. "Are you hurt, Master?"

"Do I look hurt?"

Scythe cringed at his irritated tone. "Scythe is sorry, Master. Scythe should not have doubt Master. But Scythe killed bad man who tried to hurt Master." 

"Bad man..." Death murmured amusedly.

Scythe nodded vigorously. 

"And what am I, little one?"

"Good man 'cause Master takes care of Scythe."

A gauntleted hand gently ruffled Scythe's silver hair. "Did you enjoy yourself, little one?"

"Yes." Scythe beamed up at him, leaning into the touch. "Scythe had a wonderful time."

They emerged from the school building where War was waiting impatiently. Death gestured imperiously to his two Renegade-Hounds.

"Burn the building," he ordered.

*      *      *

       _Oh God_, Colt prayed, trying to keep the overwhelming fear at bay. _Please, don't let me be too late. Please, Lord…keep her safe. I don't know what I'll do without her. Please…_

Bronco-Blaster screamed as it cut through the sky, scattering clouds and birds. Far to its starboard, Ramrod matched its speed, its deeper roar adding to the din in the sky. Below on the ground, Red-Turbo took the terrain almost mercilessly in its determination to reach their destination.

       "Kisama!" Fireball swore through gritted teeth as he spotted the thick plums of smoke rising in the distance. "April, any sight of the Outlaws?!"

       "No," came the terse response. "They aren't showing on the rangefinder. Whoever they are, they are long gone."

       Bronco-Blaster dove through the thick smoke and came to a barely dignified landing. Colt leapt out immediately, running for the school, fear and adrenaline giving him extra speed. 

       "Robin!"

       Heedless of the dangers, Colt plunged into the burning building.

       "_ROBIN!_"

**Excerpt from Fireball's journal:**

       The Tranquillity Massacre was just one among the casualties of Outlaws' attacks. From the usual M.O., we figured it was the same band of Outlaws who specialised in raiding small communities. Their attacks were fast and merciless, razing the helpless town to the ground and leaving behind no survivors. 

By the time we had received the SOS Tranquillity was already badly hit. And when we finally got there, it was all too clear that we were too late.

Tranquillity was destroyed and its people dead. 

_(Pause as Fireball took a deep calming breath, trying to keep the tears at bay)_

It might have been easier for us if we hadn't known the town on a personal basis, if we weren't familiar with all the people living in Tranquillity. The Tranquillity Massacre hit too close to home and it affected us badly. April cried for days, mourning for the simple folk who made us welcomed in their little community. I-I kept seeing their corpses in my dreams.

And Colt... 

       Colt did not take the news well. His one love, the girl he was planning to marry, was dead as well, at the hands of the Outlaws. She had died in the fire that consumed her school, died trying to protect the schoolchildren she was fond of.

_She did not deserved to die like that._

_       (Pause. Fireball forced himself to keep writing, even though his hand trembled violently)_

I worry about Colt. He's completely devastated, broken, utterly consumed by grief and hatred. All that is on his mind now is vengeance, to make the murderers pay for their wanton cruelty. I feel so helpless, watching him drown in his anguish. There's nothing April and I could do to help ease his pain, except to be there when he goes ballistic. I can almost understand how he feels. If I lose April…I don't know what I'll do.    

       _(Fireball shut his journal, unable to continue writing, and buried his face in his hands)._

**BACK TO 'RECONCILIATION'**


	4. Side Story 3 Scythe

Name: Androgene (formerly known as Cyberoid13)

Website: 

Email: androgene@lycos.com

Title: Scythe (side story 3)

Summary: The history and relationship between Death and his Scythe

Date of completion: 31st October 2001 

Category: Drama

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Blood and violence

Author's notes: 

This is my very first songfic, so please be gentle with the C&C. I had to write this side story halfway through the third instalment when I realised there's a whole lot of back-story that needed to be told, which would make the main story easier to understand. Also, this side story was necessary because I did not want to distract the reader from the main plot. I chose to make this a songfic because I was only writing snippets - scenes that are important. And frankly, it's a lot easier to do time-compression in this manner. 

The song is 'Possession' by Sarah McLachlan, taken from her album 'Fumbling Towards Ecstasy'. It is one of my all-time favourite songs because of the meanings in the lyrics. Which is perfect for the odd relationship between Death and Scythe. In a very real sense of the word, Death does own Scythe almost like one would keep a pet or a tool. Scythe's obsessive love for Death is a kind of possession too. 

*pause*

Complicated enough? I think so too. Took me a long while to sort out the dynamics of their relationship.

I always planned to introduce Death's closest comrade in the third instalment but I never really knew how to characterise him. Only one thing was very clear to me from the beginning – he must be absolutely loyal to Death (it borders on worshipful love) and there must be a very special bond between them. This character must act as the temptation to lure Saber back to the Outriders. I tossed the second-in-command idea quite quickly. It just doesn't fit in with the other elements. 

Then it hit me. In medieval times, Death was always portrayed carrying a large sickle or scythe. But since my Death already carried an energy blade, why not make this scythe a living person instead? Literally a living weapon loyal only to Death. 

Being a living weapon, Scythe must give the impression of a sharp blade. So I make Scythe small, sleek, inhuman in appearance and predator-like (I think the closest description would be a cross between feline grace and reptilian sinuosity full of razor sharpness). I took a step further and make Scythe a neuter - my reasoning being a weapon has no gender whatsoever. As if that's not enough, I gave Scythe a childlike simple nature to contrast against the efficient killer role. There is no right or wrong for Scythe, no morals and no qualms. As long as it was for Death, Scythe would do it without hesitation.

Some of the readers might find their relationship uncomfortable or even offensive, being that it's an owner-pet relationship. I apologise in advance if it offends anyone.  

Disclaimer: 

All 'Saber Rider and Star Sheriffs' characters belonged to World Event Production. I make no money from them and I do not own them. 

* * *

~ Scythe ~

(side story 3)

_

* * *

_

_Listen as the wind blow from across the great divide_

_Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time_

       Its first memory was of a small cage, a cold barren box of clear walls that gave It no way to hide. Time was of no meaning here; time has no meaning to a weapon. There were others beside It, all cowering in their clear boxes; all fearing the black man who wore his taint like a second skin. But It did not fear him; It loathed him, hated him and wanted badly to kill him and celebrate It's victory with his blood.   

_The night is my companion and solitude my guide_

_Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied_

       The cold man who stood before Its cage frightened It. It could practically taste the power and the sheer overwhelming dominance radiating off the cold man. Frightening power, so cold to Its senses. It curled into a foetal huddle as far away from the cold man as It could manage, peering through the protective shield of Its arms.

"Zhu'cov," the man uttered.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Ready it for Death."

"At once, my Lord."

It didn't understand what they were talking about, but It knew it had something to do with It. The cold man suddenly leaned close to the clear wall, sending It cringing backward with a hissing snarl. It hated the cold man, as much as It hated the black one.  

The cold man smiled a cold smile. "Perfect little spitfire. You will keep him under my control."

_And I would be the one to hold you down_

_Kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away_

_And after I'd wipe away the tears, just close your eyes dear_

Despite the watchful eyes on It, It fidgeted, trying to see as much of the chamber as It could. It liked the chamber It was brought to, a cavernous space, dank and dark. Ragged drapes hung everywhere and pieces of furniture were scattered about. It could not take Its eyes off the chandelier; It had never seen a chandelier built completely out of human bones.  

The door swung open, distracting It from Its exploration. Its silver eyes widened when It saw the shrouded form approaching It. From hood to boots, he wore the ashen colour of corpse. The cloak was tattered at the edges, parting slightly to reveal body armour of the same ashen hue. It could not see the face shrouded by the hood, but It need not to.   

Death has finally come for It.

"Leave us." Death told the guards.

It bowed low as the Pale Rider came towards It, prostrating Itself on the cold stone floor. The booted feet finally stopped before It.

"Rise your head," came the command.

Shivering at the flatness of that voice, It timidly obeyed – and gaped at the vision standing before It.

_Through this world I've stumbled, so many times betrayed_

_Trying to find that honest word, to find the truth enslaved_

The hood was pushed back, allowing It to finally see the pale face of Its master. The man was human and handsome despite his face obscured from view. Blond hair fell in dishevelled bangs, held back by a skeletal crest of bone – Death's badge of office. The smoothness of his flat blue eyes reminded It of the clear walls that had imprisoned It once and he carried himself with an air of dignity.    

Death was simply the most beautiful person It had ever seen.

"Do you know what you are?" 

"Master's weapon." It bowed Its head again. "Master's to do as pleases."

Long fingers gripped Its pointed chin, tilting Its head up again. "Do you want to be my weapon?"

It blinked, surprised. No one had ever asked It that question before. Always, Its fate was decided by those who controlled It. 

"Is Master not pleased?" It asked in a small voice. 

The fingers tightened their grip on Its chin. It winced, sensing the anger coursing through Its Master. "Sorry! Sorry!" 

"Do I frighten you?" 

It tried to shake Its head, but Death's grip on him would not loosen. So It answered instead. "Master's weapon adores Master. Master is not like cold man or black man. Master's weapon will only be his."

Death smiled a thin cynical smile. "Do you? Or is that what the White Horseman brainwashed you into thinking?"

It stared blankly at Its Master, not understanding his words.

The Pale Rider released It, crossing the room to sit on the couch. Death studied his kneeling weapon a moment longer. "What is your name?"

"Name?" By now, It was beginning to feel horribly out of Its depth. It had never been spoken to this much in Its life before. It almost couldn't cope.

Death sighed and beckoned to It. "Come here, little one."

Gracefully, It rose and padded over to Death's side, kneeling obediently by his knees. It peeked timidly up at Its Master, flushing when It saw Death smiled.

"Your name is Scythe," Death uttered. "You are Death's weapon. You will obey only me and no one else. You will kill for me and you will die at my hands."

"Yes," Scythe said happily. "Yes!"

Without thinking, Scythe tore open the vein in a wrist with Scythe's claws and offered the bleeding limb to Death. "Make Scythe Master's, please."

Death glanced from the bleeding wrist to Scythe's eager happy face. "Do you know why you do this?"

"Scythe wants to belong to Master," Scythe replied simply.

"He told you nothing about your blood?"

Scythe did not understand his words, nor did Scythe understand the look in Death's eyes. Scythe was beginning to think that Death did not want Scythe after all when he grasped Scythe's wrist and brought it to his lips. Death's smile was thin and cynical.

"What a double-edged gift you've given me, brother."

Scythe watched, enraptured, as Death lowered his head and sucked painfully at Scythe's bleeding wrist, drinking Scythe's blood.  

_Oh, you speak to me in riddles and you speak to me in rhymes_

_My body aches to breathe your breath, your words keep me alive_

Though Scythe had no concept of time, Scythe knew the days spent with Death was the happiest Scythe ever had. They went to many places, In-Zone and Out-Zone – Scythe could not understand the concept of dimensions even though Death had tried to explain to Scythe – and did many things.

There were countless battles. Scythe loved every one of them - the terror and killing, the spilling of blood and life. Scythe would be there at every battle, cutting a swath through Master's enemies with joy and glee. Scythe loved it all, especially when Scythe saw how their enemies quaked and wilted before the cold savage glory of Death. Scythe loved how Master crushed his opponents, giving them the ruthless love Death has for everyone. Scythe hoped that would be Scythe's reward one day.  

But Scythe loved the quiet nights best, when they were alone and Death partook in Scythe's blood. Scythe loved the sensation of Master's mouth upon Scythe's flesh, drinking Scythe's blood until sometimes Scythe became dizzy and light-headed. Scythe would be contented and purred at Master's gentle touch binding Scythe's wound. Scythe loved the strong arms that held Scythe close as Scythe recovered from the blood loss. 

Death was everything Scythe dreamt of in a Master. 

At nights, Scythe would spend a long time gazing upon the slumbering face of Master. Sometimes, Scythe saw tears on Master's cheeks and gently, worriedly licked the salty moisture away. Master did not seem to know about his tears, so Scythe never says anything.

_And I would be the one to hold you down_

_Kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away_

_And after I'd wipe away the tears, just close your eyes dear_

       Scythe had never known true fear. Scythe's nature was that of a killer; fear was anathema to a weapon. But Scythe felt it now, surging painfully through Scythe's chest and throat.

It was an ambush. 

Death had received the Lord Conqueror's summon from Luwashanka and together with Scythe, he left his troops and encampment for the palace. Death had taken no Renegade-Hounds on this trip and Scythe was beginning to think that was a bad idea. They were barely halfway to their destination when their enemies attacked their private ship, sending it crashing down onto a planet. While trying to escape the burning interiors, they had been separated.

Scythe bounded through the burning wreckage, searching frantically for Master. The acrid smoke burned Scythe's throat and lungs, made Scythe's eyes tear but Scythe took no notice. Master's safety comes first; Master's well being was all that matters to Scythe.

Scythe burst onto the bridge and the fear exploded. Through the thick smoke, Scythe saw Death trapped in the coils of capture-cables. Looming above him were five Renegade-Hounds of design Scythe did not recognise. Death struggled fiercely to free himself but the cables were unbreakable.

"Master!" Scythe shrieked.  

Death jerked upright. "Get out of here!" he roared. 

Scythe hovered indecisively, torn between obeying Scythe's Master and rescuing him.

"_Get out of here! Now! Or I'll be angry!_"

The massive explosion solved Scythe's indecision. The force of it flung Scythe across the bridge, out of a broken port window – and over the cliff edge. 

"_Mmaastterr!_"  

_Into this night I wander, it's morning that I dread_

_Another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread_

       "Wake up." The cold voice reached Scythe from a very far place. 

Despite the awful pain, Scythe fought the darkness to consciousness. Scythe froze when Scythe saw the cold man. Ignoring the pain shooting through Scythe's body with each move, Scythe shrank back from the cold man, eyes darting about the bare room. 

"Master! Where's Master?"

"Taken from us," the cold man said. Scythe flinched back from that icy hardness. The cold man was angry. "Did you see who took him?"

"Like Renegade-Hounds but different." 

The cold man held out a small holo-projector and switched it on. "Do they look something like this?"

Scythe nodded.

The cold man's expression turned stony.

All of a sudden, Scythe realised just how terribly afraid and lonely Scythe was. It was awful; Scythe didn't want to be alone again. 

Scythe couldn't help it. Scythe started crying. "Scythe wants Master back."

The cold man allowed Scythe cry for a while as he regarded Scythe thoughtfully. 

"Will you kill to get him back?"

Sniffling, Scythe gazed at him warily, not trusting the cold man. 

"Will you kill to get him back?" the cold man pressed.

Scythe nodded hesitatingly. 

The cold man smiled, a smile that didn't reassured Scythe at all. "Rest, perfect little spitfire. When the time comes, you will bring Death back to me."

Scythe brightened. "Scythe will bring Master home?!" 

"Yes."

Scythe clapped happily. 

"Wait for Scythe, Master. Scythe is coming to bring Master home, Scythe promised."   

_Oh, into the sea of waking dreams I follow without pride_

_'Cause nothing stands between us here and I won't be denied_

_And I would be the one to hold you down_

_Kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away_

_And after I'd wipe away the tears, just close your eyes..._

**BACK TO 'RECONCILIATION'**


End file.
